Caleb's Got Game

S is for spider.

Tonight we had family home evening.  As we were getting ready to have our closing prayer, Caleb announced that he had a game for us to play.  My initial reaction was to think that it really was getting late and we didn't have time for some silly game he made up on the  fly.  But instead I indulged him and let him do his thing.  I was surprised.  He had a game that he had planned in advance and really put a lot of thought into.  He was so thrilled that he was given the opportunity to have us play it.

Caleb is 4, and just started Kindergarten.  He loves it!  In his class they study a different letter each week.  They practice the letter, eat food that starts with the letter, and the teachers even dress up as something that starts with that letter.  Last week was 'S', which is why Caleb made that lovely googley eyed spider hat above.  He calls it a "pider" - so much for all the 'S' training.  This week it is 'M'.  Yesterday Caleb came to me with a little baggie with dozens of little 'S's and 'M's that he had obviously cut out from somewhere.  He was so excited.  "I found m's and s's!"  I was a little concerned and asked him what books or magazines he had found those letters in, but he couldn't remember.  Yikes! I guess I'll find out soon enough. I quickly located for him a stack of old magazines and he continued merrily cutting out tiny little letters all morning for his little baggie.  I don't know what he is planning on doing with them.  Maybe he can use them for ransom notes one day.

So Caleb stood up at FHE to introduce his game very authoritively.  He handed everyone a new, not-for-cutting magazine, and announced that we were going to have a race.  When he said go, we would each have to find a capital 'S', a lower case 's', a capital 'M', and a lowercase 'm'.  When we found all 4, we would raise our hand, and he would come check our answers.  He had another little baggie that contained little strips of paper that he had carefully written each of our names on.  After showing him our found letters, we had to close our eyes, and stick our hand in the baggie and pull out a slip.  If it was our own name, we won.  He had really planned this and was very clear on the rules of play.  We all had fun playing his game.  Derek cheated and Caleb yanked his magazine away and told him he was out of the game.  Too funny.  Caleb was thrilled at the success of his game, and I was pleased that it didn't last too long.  Caleb is such a cute, one-of-a-kind kid.

Oh, and he is so funny because a school when a kid does something good, they earn a reward called a "Super U" that they can accumulate and buy prizes with at the "Super U" store.  Only Caleb always calls it a "Super Me."  Now thats a kid with confidence!

I also love that he calls a watermelon a "waterlemon".  That cracks me up every time.

One Man's Trash is ... Fabulous!

Don't you just love getting up at the break of dawn on Saturday mornings?  What do you mean "no way?"  If your sleeping in on Saturday mornings, you don't know what you're missing!  There is a whole wonderful world of fantastic bargains and one-of-a-kind simply cool stuff out there, not to mention excitement, action, and high drama out on the streets of otherwise quiet neighborhoods in the early a.m.  I get up early every morning, but only on Saturday do I jump out of bed at 5:30a.m. smiling, (I guess that is sleeping in for me, because weekdays I get up at 5), so happy the alarm rang and Saturday morning has finally arrived.  I wait all week for this hour!  Garage sale time is here again!

My partner in crime is Alysa.  We have been "saleing" (I know.  People hear us talking about saleing and they think we have a yacht) together for many years, and have spent most Saturday mornings together almost since we met.  It is our time.  Both of us have such crazy lives, with huge callings, and 11 kids between us.  Saturday mornings are our time together.  Sometimes you have to carve out time for yourself and your friends, even if it is while your family is snoozing or watching cartoons.  If is wasn't for our saleing time, we'd hardly have time to see each other.

 It is kind of and obsession for both of us.  OK, let me rephrase that.  It is an addiction.  There, I've said it. Hello.  My name is Rachelle, and I am addicted to digging through the used and unwanted stuff of complete strangers.  I am very, very sick.  And I have been responsible for dragging many other people that I love, including my best friend, and my own parents, down with me.  Staci, Maria, Melissa - I have spied them all out on the trail, away from their warm beds, dark circles under their eyes from lack of sleep, unable to control their urge to dig, DIG, DIG!  But I am not sorry.  If I have ever influenced anyone to go on the hunt, I feel I have done them a great service.  They have been enlightened.  Hey, as far as addictions go, if you are going to have one, this is the best, because you can only do it one morning, maybe two, a week.  Other addicts can smoke, drink, gamble, eat, and shop any day at any time.  But garage sales are limited to one morning a week.  True, we are continually going through withdrawals for the rest of the week, but we are still functioning- for the most part.  Many might not even know we are addicts, except when someone says "cute skirt," and I have to respond, "Thanks. J. Jill. 25 cents." (For real!  I had that conversation tonight.  The skirt I am wearing right now really is J. Jill, and I really did get it for a quarter this very morning, and it really is cute.)  Why do I do that?  I have to remind myself that normal people aren't as impressed by such a thing, and might even be turned off by it.  I guess it kind of defeats the purpose of wearing designer clothes if everyone knows you got it out of a cardboard box on a lawn rather than Sax Fifth Avenue.  I have no pride, apparently.  I am the hunter, and the cute skirt is my big moose head hanging in my parlor.  Other hunters can appreciate it and admire it, while non-hunters just think it is gross.

Saleing has warped my mind in other ways as well.  I have completely lost all sense of the value of the dollar.  I would bomb on the Price is Right.  I have a hard time buying things in actual stores, and malls make me crazy!  It is like I have gone to another country with a different currency.  Mall prices make no sense!  I need a currency conversion chart that converts real dollars to garage sale dollars, and vice versa.  The only thing malls are good for is to find out the value of the stuff I already got at garage sales.  That makes me happy.  Who buys that stuff in malls anyway?  Someone does, and I am glad, and I want them to keep buying it and then selling it at garage sales.  They are all enabling me in my addiction.  But looking at in another way, the real value is not what they charge in stores, but what one is willing to pay for it at a garage sale.  A $40 blouse I may pass up at $3 but snatch it up at $2, so the real value is $2, right?  If that same blouse was on a clearance rack at a store for $20, or even $10, I might snatch it up and think I got a great deal, but I will pass on it if it is $3 at a garage sale.  Warped thinking, maybe, but money is limited to cash on hand on Saturday mornings (no, the ATM is only a last resort.  It take too much valuable time.)  I might need that extra buck at the next garage sale, you just never know.  And when the cash is gone, the fun is over for another whole week!  Back to the topic of value.  If something has the actual tag showing the store price, then is is much more valuable because the evidence of you skill as a hunter is right there on the big game itself.  Tags are a premium, making items even double what they'd be worth without them.  For instance, the skirt Alysa wore tonight is just super darn darling with the tie in the back.  It is a CABI and still had the price tag - 100 bucks!  Because it had tags, I was willing to pay a premium $5 for it.  Something has to be pretty special for me to spend that much on it Saturday morning, but that skirt was special, and Alysa is special, so I felt justified in my splurge.  Love ya, Lyssy!

So here is just a sampling of some of our finds in the last few weeks.  Summer is over, and the saleing is getting good.  Today Alysa and I each got a pile of clothes, mostly J. Jill, and J. Crew for a quarter each.  Alysa's pile was much bigger than mine, but she does Ebay.  It's her thing.  But I usually buy almost as much as her, and I don't Ebay.  It is all for me!  Yikes.  Today I also got my Halloween costume which I won't tell you what it is, you'll have to wait and see.  But here's a hint - It won't make me 'popular' but I will be 'defying gravity' for sure.  And it doesn't take any 'brains' at all to see that Dennis is a little 'hung up' about his costume that is a companion to mine.  I am so excited!!!  Anyway, back to my log roll of great buys.  Last week I bought my boys a bunch of nice quicksilver shirts, two quick silver wallets, and quicksilver hat, and a quicksilver watch.  My boys LOVE Quicksilver.  Christmas!!!  Alysa has been finding a bunch of great stuff.  She is a seasoned hunter.  She beat me to the whole set of Pirates of the Caribbean large action figures.  There were about 20 of them, $5.  When it come to one of us finding something we both want, we have learned to be happy for the victor and just let it go.  Let it go and smile.  That has saved our friendship on many occasions.

But we don't just buy clothes and stuff for our families.  We also come across just simply cool stuff.  Just two weeks ago we found a whole stash of antique cameras, many with leather cases, for just $2 each.  This picture is only some of them, there were several more in the car. Some were more that 100 years old, and many were is good condition.  They are all so fun.  Check out my next post to see what I did with mine.

Sometimes we find fun stuff just for us.  Look at my totally exciting find from that same day.  Real nunchuks!  I was so excited!  Other people passed these puppies right up, but I LOVE nunchuks (what mother of six boys dosen't?)  My other nunchuks are foam.  These are cooler, but hurt a lot more when I hit mysef.  They'll just toughen me up, right?  Man, that was a fun morning!

Sometimes we find a special surprise.  Last week I bought this.  Yep, it is cool - a shelf built out of an old stained glass window with crystal doorknob hangers.  I made this.  I mean I built this cool thing a few years ago, sold it to someone, and they had a garage sale and were selling it so I bought it back.  I'll sell it again if you like it.  I already have one in my guest bathroom.  Funny to find something I made myself at someone else's garage sale.  Once, my mom and I found a centerpiece that we had made for my sister's wedding, there was no mistaking it - but we had no idea who those people were who were selling it, and they had no idea where they go it.  Weird, huh?

Sometime we find something that we have no idea what to do with, but is just way too cool to pass up.  Last week I found this antique carnival wheel-of-fortune thing. It is bold and graphic and simply fantastic.  $5.  It still works. I think I am going to call it the wheel-of-chores, and assign a chore to each number and let my kids spin away.  What do you think I should do with it?

Of course, not every morning is so bountiful.  Some mornings are just bleak. We have seen it all over the years, and we have a lot of stories and wisdom to share.  We are fast, we are picky, and we know what too look for and when to stop looking and bail.  Onto the next sale.  We don't buy junk - there is too much quality stuff out there to ever settle for junk  We are seriously considering writing a book, like "The Girlfriends' Guide to Garage Sales," or maybe doing a web cast or something.  We want educate others on how to garage sale, and more importantly, how to have a garage sale.  This world would be a better place if people were educated on proper saleing technique and etiquette.  Even if we got one seller to make the printing on their signs large and dark enough to actually read, it will all have been worth it. It is a too edged sword, though.  We want to help people become great garage salers, but we also don't need any more competition our on the garage sale trail.  I don't suppose there is a way to mark our territory, is there?

So another Saturday has come and gone, and I spent every dollar, dime, and nickel I had today.  (You'd be amazed what we can get with those last few stray coins.)  Next Saturday is so far away!  But next Saturday is General Conference, and we always have great luck on conference Saturdays.  It is Satan tempting us to stay out away from our TVs, but if there is one thing Alysa and I love even more than saleing, it is General Conference.  Looking forward to next weekend!  Until then, I will white knuckle it through another week, and try to live life as a normal non-addicted person.  If...I...can...just...hold...on...'til...Saturday......

Forever Strong

Last night was opening night for the new movie Forever Strong (Click to see the trailer.) It is about a real LDS rugby coach in Utah and how he taught the boys on his team not only how to win at rugby, but also how to be honorable men and win at life.  It was absolutely wonderful!  Exciting, great story, great cinematography, great acting,  and so many of those lines that make you say, "Wow, that was good, I'll have to remember that for a talk or something."  I think it is the kind of movie every young person should see, because of the life lessons it teaches.  It is rated pg-13 because rugby is a violent sport and there was blood.  (My boys will never play rugby - unless they get this coach, then I'd make them play.)  They never say in the movie that the coach was LDS, but he is.  He reminded me of my swim coach in high school, Coach John Lowell, who cared more about the women we would become than the swimmers we were.  He would sit down and talk to us and taught us the important life lessons at every opportunity he could find.  He, too, was LDS and shared his testimony every day without ever coming out and saying it.

Unfortunately, there were only a handful of us in the theater, and we knew everyone there from church, including Dennis' uncle Marty and his family.  This is exactly the kind of quality, moral movie that we need to see more of in the theaters.  I encourage all of you to go see this movie and see it soon, so they will keep this movie in the theaters, and will continue to make movies like this.  Bring your older kids.  I'm definitely going to bring my 4 older boys to go see it, because I want them to be forever strong.  I promise you won't be disappointed!

Don't Look Down

So we were in sacrament meeting today when I looked down and saw this.

This is Derek.  Both those feet belong on the same kid.  Yep, Derek was wearing two different shoes to church.  The black one had a big gaping hole in it and the brown one (though you can't really see from the picture) was on the wrong foot!  He was wearing 2 right shoes!  The socks also didn't match, and the short one had a big hole in the heel.  Yes, his pants really were that short (I think they were Caleb's).  I mean, if you are going to wear mismatched shoes and socks, at least have long pants on to hide them!  Derek was also wearing a shirt with 2 missing buttons, and the safety pin was sticking up above his tie.  He couldn't find his nice glasses so he was wearing his athletic safety glasses.  I had known about the shirt and glasses prior to church, but the shoes were a complete surprise to me.  He seemed just as surprised that his shoes didn't match.  How do you miss something like that?  I had asked him if he had his shoes, but didn't think to ask if they matched.  That is so typical Derek!  Dylan, his twin, is always so dapper.  He has to always look perfect.  At church Dylan was telling people, "that's not my twin, he is just some hobo."  We love our Derek.  He doesn't have his own style - his style is no style at all.  But what he lacks in style, he makes up for in personality!

My thoughts on the Twilight series

Let me just start by answering the question - Edward or Jacob?  I am definitely an Edward gal.  It is the romantic in me.  Love Edward!  Jacob was a little too rough around the edges for me (I'm not much of a dog lover), but he was a good guy, he's just no Edward (Who is?)  Let me just say that Alice rocks!  She is my kind of gal.  She has great taste, and knows how to throw a classy shindig.

I don't even know where to begin with my thoughts on Stephenie Meyer's Twilight series books.  I have never been one to read the trendy, hot off the presses type books.  I tend to like to stick with the classics - figuring they are classics for a reason.  I haven't really gone wrong too much with the classics.  But this summer, all I heard about was the Twilight books, so I bought the first one to read on our long road trip to Wyoming, and well, once you start... 

 I read the first book pretty quick.  I was almost done with it by the time we got to Utah.  We happened to be in Wal- Mart late on the night that Breaking Dawn was going to be released.  I didn't realize it.  I couldn't figure out why that Wal-Mart was crawling with freaky people in strange prom dresses, wedding dresses, etc. - it wasn't even close to Halloween yet.  Maybe that was normal in Utah, after all.  But I figured it out when I saw the long line of customers, mostly pre-teen girls sitting on the floor waiting for the books to go on sale in only 2 more hours. I figured I'd better buy books 2 and 3 while there, but I wasn't waiting around until midnight to buy #4.

TWILIGHT  I loved it!  It was a fast, fun read, and I found it intriguing.  I really think that Meyers has helped vampires come into the 21st century.  Vampires are cool.  I was enthralled with the idea of falling in love with someone who was so perfect and still so dangerous at the same time.  Just a fun, fast read.

NEW MOON  I liked it over-all.  Of course the beginning was such a downer, but that was exactly the point.  I like the whole werewolf angle and of course I loved the whole Italy part.  I love Italy and when I say the cover page with a picture of an Italian plaza, I knew I was going to like it.  I did get mad at Bella.  She was being completely idiotic, but I guess it was forgivable, considering her state of mind.  I was reading this while on our road trip.  Dennis asked me what I was reading so I started to explain the plot to him.  He must have been intrigued because about every 30 minutes he asked me what was happening now.  Dennis isn't much of a reader, so he just had me fill him in.  

ECLIPSE  Nope.  Didn't like it at all.  "Tedious" is the only word for it.  Bella: Make me into a vampire.  Edward: No.   Bella:  Make me into a vampire.  Edward: No - repeated for hundreds of pages.  I couldn't stand Bella by book 3.  It was just time for Edward, and Jacob for that matter, to move on.  She was just torturing everyone she claimed to love.  Book 3 also got a bit too steamy.  I would definitely NOT let a daughter of mine (hypothetically speaking, obviously) read 3 or 4.  Period.  I get that Meyers was good enough to push the whole, not-until-we're-married thing, which is noble, I guess, but still, married or not, there are just some things that I think pre-teen girls should not be reading about.  Maybe I am  prude.  So be it.  But I was disturbed that this series is being promoted to teenage girls.

BREAKING DAWN  Whoa!  I was frankly amazed how one book can be so tedious and wild at the same time. A bit too freaky for my taste.  I realized that while Meyers has and amazing mind and wild twists and turns in her plot, she is not a good writer.  Maybe I am spoiled by reading the classics and the beautiful artful language of the great authors.  I was a literature major, and love the beauty and power of the written word.  She has most certainly NOT mastered this skill.  She is no Jane Austin. Her dialog is just bad.  I don't know why I didn't notice so much before.  I think it is because I was too enthralled with the story to care, but the more books I read, the more it bugged me.  It got to the point, about halfway through the last book that I just put it down and couldn't read any more.  Too tedious.  I wasn't enjoying it anymore.  The book sat on my desk for two weeks before I finally had a day that wasn't busy (relatively.  All my days are busy!) and just sat down to finish and get it off my back.  (I just couldn't read 3 1/2 books and stop!)  Here are just a few of the things that bugged me about book 4, besides the tediousness.  Renesmee?  What kind of name is that?  It distracted me.  Every time I read it it pulled me right out of the zone because I thought "stupid name," and I couldn't figure out how the pronounce it.  I was much too uncomfortable with the imprinting thing, too.  I thought Bella's talent to not have to deal with the newborn vampire thing was a cop-out.  Didn't we all want to see her have to struggle with craving blood a bit more?  And the whole "don't ask don't tell" thing with Charlie was another huge cop-out.  She spent 4 books worrying what Charlie would do, only to have it be a non-issue.   I just think part of the genius of a good writer is not just in creating twists and turns in the plot, but also in tying them all up neatly in the end.  She tried, but not masterfully.   I must admit, I did like the end.  Go Alice! (oops, did I say too much?)  I was satisfied, and I was glad I talked myself into finishing the book.  It was just getting there that was hard.  Meyer could have said what she said in half the pages and it would have been better, I think.  Sometimes I read a series and I don't want it to be over, but in this case, I am fine with coming to THE END.

So those are my thoughts, if anybody cares.  I hope some of you Twilight fans don't hate me too bad.  I did give it a try though, and now I am going back to the classics.  I'm thinking Mansfield Park next.

Campaign '08

The campaigning was fierce but the people have spoken.  Campaign '08 is finally over (ya, don't we wish!)  Of course I am talking about the student council elections at Ronald Reagan School.  Both twins decided to run for office, Derek for Treasurer, and Dylan for V.P.  The boys told me that they were pushing for an all LDS ticket: Tre' for president, Dylan for vice president, Bailey or Danielle for secretary, and Derek for treasurer.

It got down and dirty at the twins campaign headquarters - our kitchen table.  It was a grassroots effort, the whole family worked for the cause, especially the candidates,  and yours truly, their campaign manager/mother.

It was not easy being the campaign manager, as I am not as in touch with the 9 year old base as I should be.  I learned quickly that Campaign '08 is not about the issues, or the personalities, but is completely and solely about the STICKERS!  Campaigns are won, or lost on stickers, apparently.

Here is Dylan's sticker.  They were very popular the first day, but by the second day my little candidates informed me that the polls came out that would-be voters were bored with these stickers and wanted to shake things up with NEW stickers.  I told them to tell their demanding constituents "tough."  Looking back, that might have been a fatal strategic blunder.  But I was not going to design new stickers.  I thought these were very cool, and the kids could deal with the same stickers for the whole length of the campaign season - one week.

This was Dylan's poster.  It said  "How do you spell Vice President?  D-Y-L-A-N."  Unfortunately the posters didn't have much of a role since all posters could only be hung in the MPR so kids couldn't destroy them, but the kids couldn't see them there either.

Derek made his stickers out of old monopoly money.  Once again, his stickers were popular, especially the $500 bills (we saved those for the swing voters - and the $1 bills went to the non-voting 1st, 2nd, and 3rd graders).  But after a day or two, the voting public were crying for new stickers.  Our timing was just wrong in this campaign. We started out strong, but then support waned as the week went on.  We should have held back, and flooded the public with the cool stickers at the very end, a Thursday Surprise. Hey, I'm still learning here.

This was Derek's poster.  it said "Get in the Game.  Vote Derek for Treasurer."  I thought it was pretty cool.  Too bad nobody saw it.

I had other ideas besides stickers and a few posters.  After all, I was elected to student council several times as a kid.  My campaign strategy - lollipops.  I passed out lollipops that looked like stop signs that said "STOP vote for Shelly SIGNS."  I used the same strategy every year.  It always worked.  But times have changed, and campaign reform has been put in place.  Now bribery is frowned upon, so we had to run a clean, sticker only campaign.  Bummer.  "Dirty", or should I say "sticky" candy-based, campaigns are so much more fun - and effective.

On Friday, the boys gave their campaign speeches.  They each took about 15 seconds.  Don't we wish politicians would follow their lead with super short speeches.  Dylan finished his speech with a high kick saying "I will fight for you."  Derek was going to throw out monopoly money to the audience, but the principal put the nix on that idea.  But another kid did threw money.  He must have had the principal in his back pocket.  

In the end, after the polls closed and the stickers had all been thrown away, both Derek and Dylan lost.  Happily, a few on their ticket did win.  Congrats Tre' and Danielle!  We are so glad our voices will be heard up in the student council.     

We are already putting together our strategy for Campaign '09.

Six Quirky Things About Myself

My friend Shannan tagged me to write 6 quirky things people might not know about me.  

1.  My first quirk is the same as hers.  I hate, hate, hate making phone calls.  I like taking on the phone, mind you, but I hate making phone calls, especially the short ones.  Weird, I know.  Appointments, phone lists, whatever.  I hate it and put it off all day.  And when I really have to make the call, it is so hard.  I have to talk myself into it.  Breathe.  Then hope that nobody answers and hang up.  This prop 8 calling is really testing my faith.  I don't know what the big deal is about making a simple phone call.  And the funny thing is, I love getting phone calls, except for telemarketers, of course.  Maybe it is because if I get the call, I didn't have to make the call.

2.  I always cross my toes, like whenever I am sitting with my feet up.  People cross their legs, or their feet.  I cross my toes.  So what?  My toes are so stinkin' long that I can cross them.  I do it all the time without realizing it.  It drives Dennis crazy.  I pick stuff up with my toes too, they are like fingers.  Maybe it is evolution.  My posterity will have actual fingers for toes.  No wonder it freaks Dennis out.

3.  I have a thing about jewelry.  It has to match - mainly my necklace and earrings.  And I can't just wear a necklace without earrings or vice versa.  If I lose and earring that goes with my necklace, or if I am given a necklace without matching earrings, it is such a shame, because I can't wear the necklace anymore.  If I really love it, I may keep an eye out for years for a pair of earrings that will match, or at least go with the necklace.  Even now, that I have a hairstyle that covers my ears completely, I still have to have matching earrings to my necklace.  Whatever!

4.  Sleeping - I have to have a blanket, or at least a sheet over me, even on the hottest nights.  But I also have to have one foot, or at least a toe sticking out, even on the chilliest nights.  (Sleeping bags drive me crazy!!!)  I always have to be partially covered, and partially uncovered.  I think I do that so I can regulate my body temperature while I am sleeping - I know where the air is if I get warm, and where the blanket is if I get cold.   

5.  OK here's another one.  I can't believe I even realized that I do this.  When I take a shower in a shower with a sliding door or shower curtain, I always enter on the side furthest from the shower head and exit on the side closest to the shower head.  Always.  Maybe it is like traffic, always stay on the right.  Only I don't usually run into a lot of traffic in the shower.  There must be a reason.  Maybe I come in the far door so I can get used to the water, and leave from the close door so I can stay in the water until the last possible moment so I won't get cold.  Sounds reasonable right?  Luckily, we have a swinging door on our shower.  Also, I always back into the water when I shower to wet my hair,  Dennis goes face forward.  He thinks I'm weird that way.  Is that strange?

6.  OK, maybe this isn't so quirky, but I always eat on a glass/ceramic plate.  This was a conscious decision I made back when I had four kids under four and I needed to do something to show myself that I was an adult and didn't have be be sucked completely into the washable, unbreakable world of Barney and Blues Clues.  I may be eating PB&J just like the kids, but I was going to do it on a glass plate - like a real adultish person.  So even now, kids eat on plastic and I eat on glass.  That's how I show myself a little self-respect.  Hey, a moms gotta do what a moms gotta do.  The one exception is paper.  I'm happy to eat on paper.  Anytime I don't have to do dishes, all self-respect goes out the window.

So there we go.  Not too freaky right? (well except for the toes thing).  I probably have way more quirky, freaky things that are way obvious to everyone else, that I think are completely normal.  Feel free to add those to my list in your comments.  I'd love to see myself through your eyes.

I tag 

1. Natalee

2. Mom

3. Diana

4. Jenie

5. Roxy

6. Shari (I know Mark does all the blogging for you, so you better get on it, or he'll tell us all your quirky things for you!) 

Oh, and Alysa, I know you've been tagged on this one already and I'm still waiting for your post.  If you need help, I can certainly point you the right direction (not that there is anything quirky about you.  You are the most normal person I know - seriously, no , seriously, I mean it, really.)

  

Day of Tears

 I should have thought to wear waterproof mascara today, as I have been brought to tears several times today by the memory of that terrible day, Sept. 11, 2001.  

I still remember that morning.  We got up and Dennis jumped in the shower.  I turned on the TV.  The news was on.  I glanced up at the TV and saw two tall buildings with smoke billowing up from them, the commentator was saying something about a possible terrorist attack.  I wondered where it was, perhaps Israel, or some other war-torn country.  It never occurred to me that it could have been in America.  I kept waiting for the news to say what country had just been attacked.  They said something about trying to get a response from the president.  The president of what country? - I asked.  Then they said the president was in Florida, and I thought how strange it was that that country's president was in America.  I am so incredibly slow sometimes.  Suddenly, devastatingly, it all clicked.  America.  America.  Someone had attacked America!  Dennis came out of the shower and saw me frozen in the middle of the room watching.  Watching and crying, as I tried to wrap my mind around what was happening.  Could such a thing have really happened?  Couldn't their be some other explanations for what was happening.  One plane - a freak accident.  But two?  To use our own people, innocent people, as weapons against other innocent people, people who had just kissed their families good-bye and went to work.  Just people.  My mind couldn't grasp such evil.  Before that moment, I couldn't have believed that such evil existed.  That morning I saw the face of evil, rising in the smoke, reflected in the terrified, ash covered faces of people running through the streets of New York, running for their lives.  Who could hate us SO much?  Why?  WHY?

I sat there in my room and watched all day, and for days after.  So many images, images that I still can picture today, each new image ripping my understanding of the state of the world further into shreds. Images of papers streaming down like obscene parade confetti, and the horrifying image of people...jumping.  What horror did they face that jumping 100 stories to their certain death was preferable?  I remember watching the first tower fall, collapsing on itself. I could hardy comprehend what it meant.  People inside.  How many?  Then the unthinkable, the other tower fell, dropping out of the skyline.  Who could survive that?  No one, apparently, we learned as we waited, and waited, then stopped waiting , stopped hoping for survivors.  I remember the terrifying reports of another airplane hit at the same time - the Pentagon - edifice of our Nations strength and security -  a punch in the face of America.  The NERVE!  And then speculation.  What next?  The White House, the Capitol, or the west coast?  Disneyland?  LA?  So many possible targets.  And more reports of another plane crash, but this time in a field in Pennsylvania?  Something went wrong?  Then realization.  Something went right!  Heroes were born... and died..  at the same moment!  Some of the strongest images weren't images at all, but sounds.  Phone calls made to wives, husbands, children.  Last messages.  Voices of dead men walking.  "I'm fine."  "I'm scared." "I love you."  So many "I love you"s that really said "Good-by."  Or then eerie sound of empty skies.  No planes flew.  Not for days.  No white streaks in the sky.  Nothing.  

One image hurts more than any other.  Even seven years later it stings my brain.  It was the wall.  Remember that wall?  My eyes swell with tears right now as I think of it.  It was the wall near ground zero where people placed pictures of their missing loved ones, desperate to find them, hadn't heard from them.  Pictures of ordinary people, smiling, doing ordinary things, photos with friends, and pets.  All ages.  All races.  Just people.  Titles: "missing", "loving mother", "come home" with descriptions, and phone numbers.  Please call!  And as the days passed, there were more and more faces, names, stories, lives on that wall, not fewer.  Heart wrenching! I still remember how that wall just filled me with despair - their despair, the despair of those who hung those pictures there.  I remember how I cried.  It was the kind of crying that hurts your sides, aches with each breath, and burns your throat and eyes.  

I didn't cry like that today.  Thankfully.  Today's were the short, quaking in the chest, eyes fill with tears, try to control my breath type cries.  Maybe that is bad.  They say time heals all wounds.  Perhaps it is true.  I hope that it isn't.  I fear the day this wound heals over, and people forget, and get lax.  I'm afraid it had already started to scab over.  

Remember the other images.  The FLAGS!  Flags everywhere.  The real America rose from the ashes.  United.  Strong.  Unashamed of calling upon their God.  Remember that?  But I didn't see too many flags today.  I flew the GIANT one.  My kids and I all wore red, white and blue.  Not too many others did.  

Today I watched the memorials, and cried.  On Saturday there was a documentary about the twin towers on the Discovery Channel.  I made my kids watch.  They were amazed, they had so many questions.  I told them.  They saw me cry.  It was good for them.  My children were too young to remember much about Sept 11.  The twins were only 2.  My oldest was only 5. They are old enough to understand now.  I want my children to know that evil exists, secret combinations, just like we read about in the ancient days.  They need to see what evil is.  What evil does.  Why we fight.  They need to also see how heroes are made from ordinary people.  Americans are good, and strong.  Americans help each other.  There could be heroes everywhere.  They could be heroes.  They must be heroes if a day like this comes to them.  My boys need to see that too.

They showed more images today.  Not many.  There were so many that day.  But the ones that they showed seemed so fresh.  Raw.  And the sounds... Oh!  

They need to show more images.  And show them, and show them, and show them.  We need to cry more, and remember more.  And then we need to stand up and be that America again!   

In the Air

Did you smell it this morning?  I did.  I walked out my front door at 5:30 this morning and there is was, faint, but impossible to miss, the moist and sweet smell.  Fall was in the air!  I sucked down one giant gulp of cool healing air, and then another.  I didn't want to get in my car.  I just wanted to stand there on my porch and breathe, slowly. With regret I climbed into my car, and was down the block and around the corner before I realized that I had an option - my car windows can actually be rolled down.  I rolled them all down, turned off the AC, and opened the sunroof.  The cool breeze whipped around frantically in my small car and against my bare arms.  I got goosebumps.  It was wonderful.  After the long hot desert summer, this felt like heaven.  I know why people in other places get so excited by the first flower of the spring, because they know the long harsh winter is almost over.  For us here, in the desert, that first whiff of fall in the air has the same effect - a sign of better days to come. Today will be another scorcher, to be sure.  All hint of fall was gone by the time I left the gym at 7am. It will likely stay hot for a while, perhaps through October.  But fall was here, and it is coming back.  You just have to be up and out early enough to catch it.

New Calling

 

Yep, its official.  I am the new Young Women's president in the Bermuda Dunes Ward.  Shocker, I know!  The bishop told me that he went to the temple with the short list of names for this calling, and my name wasn't on it.  But while he was there, my name came so strongly to him that he knew it was supposed to ME.  Maybe it is just a line he gives to everyone that he saddles with a big calling, but it worked, because although my head was shouting out one good reason after another why I couldn't do this job ("you are TOO busy, woman!"), the only response I could really give to was a quiet "OK". 

 That was last Sunday, so it has been a stressful week for me, (triggering the insomniatic rambling of the "My Document Stack" post last week.)  I spent the week fasting, praying, and attending the temple, trying to come up with names for callings, tying up loose ends for my old calling as second counselor in the RS presidency, getting reoriented with the YW program, and getting filled in with EVERYTHING there is to know about my new calling, all while trying to keep it all a secret and continue with the duties of everyday life and the scheduling whoas of the first week of school. Overwhelming is and understatement.

All week little thoughts have been flitting through my head, pros and cons, about my new calling.  I'm glad I had to keep this a secret all week, because if I would have written this last Sunday, my cons might have outweighed my pros.  But a week's time has given me perspective, and I am confident the pros will win out.  Lets make a list of "+"s and "-"s, shall we?

Leaving Relief Society -

Attending YW +

Not working with Denice, Myra, and Maria anymore - -

Getting to work closely with Dayna, Kathy, Shannon, and other YW leaders ++

Not seeing all the dear relief society sisters each week -

Really getting to know all the great YW leaders better, and building closer friendships with them ++

Getting to know and build friendships with the girls too  ++

Having to compete with two of my dearest friends, Alysa and Denice, for sisters to fill callings -

Having to fill callings -

Getting to know the sisters I will get to fill those callings +

Being the boss - - 

A great, hard-working  and helpful board ++

Girl time +++

Planning, planning, planning  YW activities -

Not having to plan any more enrichment activities +

Getting to attend enrichment activities without having to be in charge of anything +

Not feeling guilty when I have to sneak out of enrichment to go the taekwando class +

Being in charge of everything in YW- -

The bagful of RS counselor stuff I get to hand off to the sister who will replace me +

The carload of YW stuff Staci happily handed off to me - -

The fact that everything Staci gave me was so organized +

Having to keep it organized -

More girl time +++

Less time with my boys -

Less time with my boys +

Bearing the heavy weight of being ultimately responsible for those sweet girls -

Those sweet girls +++

Sisters to help me carry that responsibility ++

More craziness added to my family life -

A loving supportive husband +++

Fewer Tuesday and Thursday nights +

Every Wednesday, Sunday, and lots of Saturdays - -

Chaperoning dances -

Girls camp +++

Being with Alex, and soon Nate, at combined activities ++

Driving -

A big suburban+

More excuses to stamp+

Less time to stamp -

8am ward council meetings -

Not having to get white shirts and ties on six little boys once a month+

Did I mention girl time? +++

Helping the girls to grow +

The girls helping me to grow +++

Wow, I think I counted exactly twice as many pluses  as negatives!  I'm started to get excited about this.  Try not to be jealous of my calling, OK?  Remember, 'Thou shalt not covet."  

Hey, what do you mean by "no danger of that!" ?

Others "PALIN" Comparison

Last night watching TV I was screaming and cheering.  To hear it you'd think I was watching a ball game and my favorite team was winning (of course anyone who knows me knows I don't have a favorite team for any sport, and I don't ever watch games, the Olympics excepted.)  I was watching the speech of Sarah Palin at the Republican National Convention.  I kept forgetting my kids were asleep when I hollered out things like, "You go girl!"  "EXACTLY!!!"  and "YESSSSSS!"  To continue with the sports analogy, Palin hit a home run, no, actually a grand slam (Yea, dear, I do know what grand slam is.)  She said everything just right, and I agreed with everything that she said - things that have needed to be said for a long, long time.  This morning Glenn Beck called it political porn - too funny.  I think of it as political manna.  She was sharp, witty, and very clear about who she was and where she stood.  

Now, while I do believe that a mom should generally stay home with her kids when at all possible, I also realize that mom's voices are rarely heard in the political scene - not because we are uneducated, apathetic, or brainless, but we are busy helping kids with homework, driving kids to soccer, or shopping for groceries - we realize that the best way to serve this country and keep her free is by raising our kids to be contributing, honest members of society and teaching our children the values that will continue to keep this Nation great.  Unfortunately, at the same time, the only voices we hear are the shrill, angry Hilaryesque voices of the woman who claim to represent us women, yet espouse everything opposite of what the mothers of America are working so hard to instill in our children.  I'm sorry to say, that when I see a woman's name on a ballot, my instinct is to not vote for them simply because the majority of the women I see in politics are the nasty chip-on-her-shoulder, wanna-be-a-man feminists that make me crazy.  

That's why Sarah Palin is so refreshing.  She has five children, not the token one or two,that many politicians have, so she is serious about this family thing.  She got into politics in an attempt to improve her children's' and our children's' lives, while other women have children in an attempt to improve their political careers.  And she adores her husband, and lets him be the man.  She is not apologetic about being a woman, instead she knows that it is her characteristics of a woman that make her great at what she does.  That is something I have understood for a long time.  There is no shame in being a woman (who would want to be a man?  Not me!)  I know that the only way women are going to gain the real respect they deserve, is to demand that we are respected for being who we are and who we were meant to be, and never by trying to become like men.  Strength, compassion, nurturing, attention to detail, and defense of family and truth are the exact female traits that make women great at anything they do.  

Sarah Palin seems so familiar to me because she is so like most of the wonderful, strong women I know personally and interact with everyday, and so unlike the ones that make themselves seen, and endlessly heard, all over the TV.   I am going to let THIS women represent me, because she is the REAL American woman.  

Her speech was perfect.  Her voice was pleasant - firm and cheerful, not shrill and grating like Hilary's.  (I am so glad I don't have to listen to that voice for the next 4 years.)  Palin was confident and completely comfortable during the monumental speech, which is something considering the pressure that must have been on her last night.  She was sharp and intelligent, and knew so much about other important issues besides family, like energy and spending.  She has good old common sense, and is completely no-nonsense, saying thanks, but no thanks to the bridge to nowhere, and the governor's personal chef and luxury jet.  (I think I would have had a tough time getting rid of a personal chef.  I mean, how sweet would that be?).  She actually lives what she believes and has been tested and tried in her convictions in real life.  She chose to keep her baby when she learned he had Downs Syndrome, and her oldest son is enlisted and heading off Iraq next week. They are not "just words" to Sarah Palin.

Sarah Palin has me excited, more excited than I have been in years.  It is so refreshing to have a voice in the public arena.  And she speaks for millions of mothers, and fathers, around this country.  Real people.  People who love their God, their country, their hometowns, and their families.  I'm going to support Palin in doing her part to keep this country great as she speaks up for what so many of us have been thinking for so long, and I am going to continue to do what I can do best for this nation by keeping my family strong and teaching my children to live Christian values.  Together, we just might have a chance to redeem this great nation from the grip of the adversary.

To continue the sports analogy, I say "Touchdown!" (oh, yeah, wrong sport.  Sorry!)  I mean "It's going... going... it's outta here!"

Real women of America, and all Americans who love god and family finally have a reason to stand up and cheer.  Hurray for women.  Hurray for the good ol' USA!  

One of THOSE Mornings!

Ever feel like this?

I had one of those mornings, a real humdinger! Roxanne and Alysa have already heard it - thanks for the ear my friends, and Roxy said, "You SO have to blog that." I think I will feel better when get it all down and throw it into the blogosphere. It's long, but it involves a lot of poop, so it might be worth reading, if you're into that kind of thing.

My bad morning actually started last night. Dennis and I went to the temple. That part was good. But it was our first time leaving the kids home alone to go all the way to Redlands. My mom was 5 minutes away if there was a problem. It was fine. There were no problems. In fact, when we got home after 10pm, the boys were all asleep. That was a good thing, right? School night. But that was also a problem, because they were too asleep! We realized that neither of us had a key and the house was locked up tight. Another good thing - no strangers were getting into that house. Only neither were we. It was serious lock down. No amount of ringing door bell or calling on the phone was waking anybody. Were we going to be spending the night on the trampoline? (Actually, Dennis might like to rough it out there!) After banging on their bedroom window until I thought the glass was about to crack, a light switched on and the shutters flew open, and when my oldest assessed that I was not the boogie man, he unlocked the front door.

The house was a mess. To be fair, I could see that they had attempted to do their dinner chores, but surprisingly their definition of a successfully completed job is remarkably different from my own. I give them credit for trying. I really didn't want to think about the mess by that time. I just wanted to hit the sack.

I found Caleb asleep in my bed. He had peed all over the bed, the comforter, and it went into the mattress. Nice. Dennis stripped down Caleb, and I stripped down bed and hauled it to the laundry room. The mattress needed airing out, so we finally crashed on the sofas. It was late.

So this morning when the alarm went off, we didn't hear it. When I woke up, it was almost 7. Wednesdays are Dennis' early day - 7am meeting. Of course its Wednesday. He jumped up, showered, and ran out the door. Then I hurried and got my middle schoolers up and ready, noticing again my dirty house and realizing that I had a friend coming over at 9am so I could help her make some invitations. My house was no condition for anyone to see it - six boys, six hours, no supervision, remember? It looked even filthier in the light of day. I rushed to clean as much as I could before I had to take my kids to school. When you have a mess like that, and limited time, where do you even start?

In my mad cleaning spree I happened to look up and see the clock. We had to get out the door right now if I was going to get my boys to the middle school. So I herded everyone into the car, snatched Luke out of his crib, and threw him into his car seat in his bulging night diaper. I remember thinking that I should probably change him first, but decided I didn't have time. Hind sight is 20/20, and now I see so clearly that a two minute diaper change would have changed the whole course of my morning, and saved me hours of trouble.

This morning, this very morning, was the morning that Luke figured out how to wiggle out of his car seat. On the drive to school, in the rear view mirror, I saw him bouncing around in the back. It was chaos! The kids were screaming, but I couldn't understand what they were saying. I was yelling at them to get him back into his seat. It is the first week of school, and I knew cops would be everywhere. It took me too long, and another look in the rear-view mirror to realize what the screaming was all about. Luke, in his escape form the confines of his car seat, had torn off the front of his diaper. He was trying to climb over the back of the seat, and his diaper was hanging in a flap behind him. Poop was everywhere! Not in a neat little pellet form, but the sticky, stinky kind. Bad. Bad. So very bad.

I stopped to let the kids out at the school. They squawked and moaned that they had poop on them. I thought of taking them home to clean up, but there was no time. Bad mom told them to find a bathroom. Use lots of soap. I couldn't listen to their protests, as I was out of the car, leaning into the backseat, trying to grab the naked poopy slippery little monster and wedge him back into his poopy seat. Ugh! I was digging around trying to find the wipes. No wipes. I remembered the my good husband had spend labor day cleaning out and vacuuming out the car. He must have taken out the wipes along with the 27 socks, candy wrappers, unmatched shoes, sandwich crusts, and 18 action figures. So much for a clean car.

I didn't know what else to do, so I just rolled down the window and drove home. That was a long ride. At home, I tossed Luke into the tub, then went to tackle the car, armed with disinfecting wipes and lysol. Man, what a lot of work, and so HOT even this early in the morning. It is amazing what heat does to the smell of ripe feces. I cleaned up the car as best I could, but realized that I didn't have time to take the car seat out, take it apart, clean it, and get it put back together and in the car before I had to get the twins to school. Why do they make car seats so hard to clean? Hasn't anyone thought that a toddler might make a mess in their car seat? Hello? Maybe someone needs to ask a mom about designing a car seat. I just grabbed an old towel and threw it over the mess on the car seat, then ran into the house to get a nice fresh diaper on Luke, and get the kids into the reeking car.

While I was in the garage, Luke had dumped water out of the tub all over the floor, and was now in the kitchen, naked, swinging a full open bag of cheerios around over his head- imitating a helicopter, I think. My other three boys stood frozen two feet away while cheerios rained down all around him. By the time I got to him the bag was empty...and breakfast was over.

After a quick sweep of the floor, a diaper and clothes for Luke, and a short but energetic temper tantrum (me, not the toddler), I drove the boys to school. The windows were still open as the car now had the tangy aroma of baked poop and lysol. Back at home I went to get Luke out of his seat, and found that he had adeptly yanked the poop barrier towel out from under him. Of course he had. Another bath, and another change of clothes for Luke. Suddenly it was 9 o'clock and my friend was on her way. My house was still a mess, but it smelled a lot cleaner than a hot car full of poop, so I figured it was good enough. Besides, I figured that if anyone had an excuse for a dirty house, I did.

I was exhausted. After my guest left, I spent the rest of the day on my stripped down bed, and did nothing (except for six loads of laundry, disassembling, hosing down, washing, reassembling, reinstalling a car seat, and five more trips picking up/dropping off kids.) After all, I deserved a break.

Back to School

I was kind of surprised my the feelings I have had about my kids going back to school.  Usually I am thrilled about it, and count down those last days in August.  But this year was really different.  I liked having them around and having an open schedule everyday.  It was free, and easy, and though my house was never quiet or clean, it was nice to just hang out with my gang.  Maybe this summer was different because I didn't feel trapped.  If I had to get groceries or just needed a break, I could leave them with Alex.  I didn't do a lot of that, but just knowing I had the option, helped my sanity tons.  I am sad to see that all end.  And though we did a lot of fun stuff this summer there was so much more I wanted to do with them.  I'm going to miss them, and sad to have to say good by to my gang, and hello to my taxi-driver/ homework enforcer day job again.

 First out the door this morning were Alex and Nathan.  This is Nate's first year in middle school, and he was a mix of nervous and excited.  Last year when Alex headed off the middle school, I was a nervous wreck.  It is a hard thing sending your precious child into the eye of the pre-pubescent storm.  But this year I was cool as a cucumber.  It is a great school, and I have confidence that Nate is going to have a great time there.

Notice this picture is in front of our house.  They convinced Dad to take them to school, before mom, with her camera, could walk them to their 1st period classroom and make them take pictures with their new teachers.  Of course I wouldn't dare, but I couldn't resist the torturing them by threatening such a thing.

Next, Derek and Dylan, were off to their 4th grade class.  They are together again, and seem excited about it and about their teacher.  They were good enough to indulge their dear mom with a few photo ops.  I'll take it while I can still get it.  One stipulation, though.  I was not allowed to take a picture of them with their teacher.  "Mom, we don't know her."  Oh, but they will.  They promised me a teacher/student picture on the last day of school - but I am going to push for a shot at back to school night.

Of course the big story of the day is Caleb and his first day of kindergarten.  He has afternoon, and an amazing teacher.  This morning, though, when we were bringing the twins to school, he saw all the kids in his classroom and couldn't understand why he couldn't go in too.  He even had his backpack with him.  He didn't quite understand why we were leaving campus when it was the first day of school.  At home he came to me, with his backpack, every 15 minutes, asking if we could go please go to kindergarten now.

When the time finally came he was thrilled.  Unlike his brothers, he not only let me take his picture, but he wanted me to take lots of pictures.  Finally, a child who understands me!  When the time came, he kissed me - on the lips, in public (that's kindergarten, the most precious year when they aren't afraid to acknowledge you and show you affection in public.  I know it won't last, so I'll savor every peck, hug, and wave he wants to give me this year.)

Then he lined up with his classmates (he is definitely the tallest, and one of the youngest in his whole class. Who's surprised?), and they all filed into their class.

I went home, put Luke down for a nap, and took a nap myself.  I NEVER get naps, and I won't make it a habit, but it was a long summer, and I was tired.

Puppy with Big Paws

Don't get so excited by the title.  We did NOT get a dog.  Banish the thought.

Dennis took Alex, our oldest, out to buy new shoes for school yesterday.  When he got home he couldn't wait to show me.  

"Cool,"  I said.

"They're size 10 1/2!" he said, beaming with pride.

It took me a second to process.  Hello, that is a MAN's size 10 1/2, not a kid's size.  Remember?  It took me another second to do the math.  If I wear a women's 12, that translates to a man's 9 1/2...

"Holy Cow, boy!  You have bigger feet than I do!"  I grabbed his new tennis shoes right out of the shoebox, pulled out the tissue paper stuffing, and slipped them easily onto my enormous feet.

And the thing is, I have gigantic feet!!!  Size 12.  I can't even walk into your average shoe store and buy a pair of shoes.  In all my years of garage saleing, I have only once found shoes my size (that was a happy day!).  My feet are freakishly large.  His feet are larger - and I am almost a foot taller than him!  That might be why it caught me so off guard. He still seems little to me.  His feet, obviously, are not.

Whoa!  When did this happen?  Only 12 years ago his feet were like two inches long, and I would just marvel at his perfectly formed tiny little toes with those eensy weensy toenails.  

But the truth is, with the gene pool he has, there was never any hope for him, or any of my sons, to have normal size feet.  We used to joke that when our babies are born, they weigh the baby, then they weigh his feet.  Wait till Caleb gets bigger.  Special order shoes for him?

No wonder those boys sound like a herd of cattle when they're running through the house.  What ever happened to the pitter patter of little feet?

Anyways, I am over the shock of it now.  It was just one of those mom moments when you have to stop, and to try to catch up with how fast your kids are changing right under your nose.  Of course, he'll be up over my nose in no time.  That will be another shock, when I realize a kid is taller than me.  And THAT will be no easy task either.

It will happen, of course.  You know what they say about a puppy with big paws.

My Document Stack

My good friend Insomnia has paid her nightly visit - just look at the time of this post!  I just have so many things in my head right now.  

My new MacBook (love it) has a "dock" which looks like a narrow shelf along the bottom of the screen, and all the icons are lined up on it.  On the right hand side, next to the trash can, well its really a wastebasket, there is something called a stack.  It is a stack of current documents - things that I am working on.  It looks like a stack of papers, and when you click on the stack, it fans out and you can see all you recent and current docs, and pick the one you want and re-arrange them however you want.   

Well, I have also have a document stack on the dock of my brain that has managed to get pretty thick as of late.  Well, this stack in my head keeps shuffling, and reshuffling, with a new document popping to the top of the stack with each shuffle.  The sound of all that paper ruffling  is keeping me awake at night.  The problem is that no matter how much I shuffle my stack, one document or another is always on top, awaiting my consideration - in the middle of the night.  I really wish I had an untitled folder I could stuff them all into.  I'd title it "tomorrow."  Then I might be able to get to sleep.

The dock in my brain has no wastebasket, by the way.

I don't even know how the stack got so thick so fast.  Last week I was camping, and the only documents on my stack at night were titled "keep Luke in his sleeping bag so he doesn't get cold,"  "remember to put sunblock on those kids more often,"  "Bella is a dork and Edward could do so much better," and "those darn squirrels."  Why do vacations have to end?

My first night home, my usual stack was sitting there waiting for me, right where I left it, and since then a bunch a new papers, with much more menacing titles, have been piled on top.  Lovely.

Of course, tomorrow is the first day of school, and my kids will be up extra extra extra early, no doubt.  5 am gives you just enough time to get to class by 9:10.  Next week, I'll be dragging them out of bed at 8:30, most likely.  Plus, its temple night, and its no good to be sleepy when you have to go to the temple.  Here's hoping I can pull it off and avoid snoring in the middle of the session.

Oops.  Those papers in my stack are starting to ruffle again.  Wonder what document will end up on top this time?