Hard Rock or Hard Rock?

Those were the two choices in music where I grew up.

It was AC/DC, Rat and Guns N Roses. We lived just blocks away from ISU and the Hult Arena.   I would lay in the top bunk with the window wide open listening to the concerts that were going on just a short bike ride away. I would close my eyes and try to picture the band performing on stage and the crowd pressed liked sardines in the "general admission" section, arms waving as they swayed to the music.  One of the greatest days in my childhood life?  Seeing Rick Springfield climb out of his tour bus and say "How do you get into this joint?"  I was just a stone's throw away on my flowered banana seat, close enough to smell the Polo.  

One of my very first concerts was Guns N Roses. We travelled the 3 hours to Salt Lake City just to be nearer to Slash. Sweet Child of Mine?  Patience?  Welcome to the Jungle?  Brilliant.  Mr. Brownstone?  Instantly transports me back.  Flying down the freeway in our shorts and swimsuits on our way to Lava Hot Springs to get a burn on top of a burn.  Oh the reckless abandon of it all.

There was one friend in Idaho who wore Birkenstocks, wore long sweaters and listened to the Violent Femmes.  (And one more thing.  Her parents smoked pot.  Openly.  I'd go over to her house and there it would be, sitting right in the middle of their coffee table.  But I digress.)  She was a freak in her musical tastes.  Erasure?  Alphaville? Enigmas in our little town.  I remember her ripping into the parking lot, windows rolled down, sunroof open and "Let me go on like a blister in the sun," blaring from her car.  We all stood with mouths agape wondering where in the world this girl came from.  I'm not even sure where she got the music.  Maybe she mail ordered it. It was probably delivered in a nondescript brown package.  She didn't belong and we all knew it.  

Headbangers ball, big hair bands and power ballads.  That's where it was at.

Do I want my kids listening to Hard Rock?  Heck no.  That's why I'm not raising them in Idaho.

It was a Troubling Sight

I have heard dog owners talk about the first thaw of the year.  To be honest, I thought they were being a little over the top.  It couldn't possibly be as shocking as the scenes they'd described.

And then the snow melted.  

The sight that lay before me was beyond shocking.

Our dog had meticulously covered every square inch of our backyard.

Because I couldn't avert my gaze (it was comparable to a train wreck)

and because I want to be a good neighbor

I picked up the shovel and waded out back.

My mood turned from awe to anger in a matter of seconds 

as I took the first scoop.

Was that a polly pocket leg?  And next to it, chef Barbie's apron?  As my eyes perused the scene I stood in silent disbelief.  The baby doll pajamas.  A child's missing sock. Beautiful red ribbon that came off of who knows what.  Littlest Pet Shop butterfly.  Hair clips.  Bows. Springs, tupperware and batting.  Two of my missing nativity pieces.  Is nothing sacred?!

There was incriminating evidence strewn everywhere.

Because I realize that the smartest dog is only as bright as a two year old and because I realize that Murphy is not that dog, I did not string him up by is paws.  Instead, I chose to be impressed that he could stomach all of the above listed items without incurring a trip to the vet.  So, in reality, he saved us money.

That's our dog.  A real money saver.  

Complicated

They beg to play

from the moment their eyes flutter open.

They meet at the corner in all their royal glory,

donned in their picture perfect gowns.

They are princesses, queens, mothers,

babies, wives, store keepers, kittens.

And then something goes wrong.

The queen turns into a wicked stepmother,

the baby into a belligerent child.

They bring each other to tears,

throwing about mean words and crowns

until they are swept home by the highest royalties of all.

They eat, they sleep, they wake, they beg

to be reunited.

thanks for the toothpaste

on my toothbrush today, and every day

thank you for always folding 

the white load of laundry

for making killer omelettes

for being my GPS system

my geography teacher

my DJ

thank you for making me laugh so hard

that I have to drop to the ground

to save myself from utter embarrassment 

thank you for making me travel

for making home feel exotic

for driving around the block one more time

so our date can last a little longer

i had no idea

marriage was going to be

such a blast

He has forgotten to feed the cat

for the past month.  

I pulled him out of class today 

so he could pour a cup of food 

into the cat's bowl

It brought back memories

my mom came in curlers

It's 9:00 a.m.

and she's still asleep.  

She woke up at 3:30 a.m. 

and didn't fall back to sleep until 6:30.  

As I peek in at her it's hard to be upset.  

She's sleeping soundly beneath her polka dot quilt, 

her face hidden beneath my night shirt.  

A discovery born out of desperation when she was an infant.  She would wake in the night and I would give her the shirt I was wearing.  She would grasp it's warmth to her, snuggle her face into it's folds and fall quickly back to sleep. 

Four years later 

and she's still comforted 

by the warmth and smell of her mother.  

How could I be upset over a few hours of lost sleep ~

Announcing

Mr. Matt

To welcome him to the world of blogging 

 click here.

To follow his big brother, Brayden, 

click here.

"Mama, please lay with me."

A day comforting a sick child

is a day well spent.

They are so cuddly

and sweet

and appreciative.

And you get to read countless numbers of books

and watch all those little girl movies that

big brothers always veto.

And you both get to wear your pajamas all day.

We laughed, we cried, we vowed never to watch it again

I'd been looking forward to this movie with great anticipation.  It came highly recommended by family and friends alike.  Brandon and I finally cuddled up in front of it Friday night.  It was well written, perfectly cast (loved Ryan Gosling's performance) and extremely thought provoking.  

The point of this film (in the words of the writer) is to explore what would happen if a community rallied around someone with mental challenges.  The main character is at that crucial point where he is subconsciously deciding if he will be a part of "the real world" or sink away into his own.  

Too close to home when Autism has chosen to take up residence in your life.    

Unfortunately there are many brilliant films that won't find a place in our movie collection, ie. "Forrest Gump."  Who didn't love Forrest Gump?!  

"I am Sam."  So great when I went to see it, with Nick still tucked safely away inside me.

Lars, Forrest and Sam may not even be on the Autism spectrum for all I know . . . but they sure share an awful lot of similarities to my every day.

Filmmakers, thank you for giving mental disabilities a voice.  I really am grateful for you.

Forgive me for not buying a ticket.

"That's all I have to say about that."

"The Emperor's New Clothes" . . . or hair

I've anticipated my 2009 birthday money since February 16th, 2008.  Birthday money is precious when you're a mom.  It's money that is not to be spent on grocerys, dry cleaning, dog food or PTA dues.  It's only divine purpose is to purchase something completely self indulgent, no strings attached.  

This year I decided to buy a new me with my birthday cash.  I decided to get a haircut and color. I scheduled my appointment two months ago with "Jen."  (No need to use real names here.)  I have followed Jen through price increases and location changes for years.  A year ago I decided she was too expensive and her location too inconvenient.  I've missed her, and so has my hair.

Today was the magic day.  With money in hand I sat in her chair and explained that I was looking to "add interest" to my hair.  I also mentioned that a few gray hairs have found their way into my tresses.  I think all she heard was "gray."  Two hours and all my birthday money later I looked, well, exactly the same.  She exclaimed over it as she blew it dry.  I smiled like an idiot and agreed that it looked great.

Lesson learned.  Vanity has gotten me nowhere, and now neither has my birthday money.  Oh well.  There's always 2010.

Side note:  Brandon called me while I was sitting under the dryer at the salon to tell me that the market was plummeting and that 5 employees had just been laid off, including his assistant.  See, he doesn't bring it home.  

Dysfunctional Reading

When I was a kid I would spend entire days with my nose in a book.  No showering, dressing or even brushing my teeth.  Fitting a meal in was an absolute chore.  A trip to the public library?  Utter and complete heaven! I know. If you had known me in my childhood days you would have called me a geek.  I'm comfortable with that.

As an adult, my reading habits haven't changed.  That's a problem when you've got four kids, a dog and a household to run.  I often compensate by staying up until 3:00 a.m. to get my uninterrupted reading time. I admit there are still days that I don't make it out of my p.j.s in sacrifice of a good book.  My latest?

Luckily I was sick in bed as I read this goody.  That means Brandon wasn't too shocked or disappointed at the state of our home or the children when he walked through the door in the evenings.

Other great books as of late?  "Richistan" by Robert Frank (thanks Matt).  "Marley and Me" by John Grogan. (Unfortunately you'll be picturing Owen and Jennifer when you read the book now but it is a great book.  It will make you fall in love with you pup all over again.  It saved Murphy from the classifieds last fall.)  I've just started "The Lost, a search for six of six million" by Daniel Mendelsohn (thanks Tim and Beck).

So here's the bad news.  Dysfunctional Reading seems to be hereditary.  Brayden worked his way through a 7 book series in 2 weeks.  Back to the library in search of a new series . . . again.  

Matt has been caught staying up until 11:30 reading his latest book.  This morning he was cuddled into a chair pouring over the final few chapters, in his pajamas . . . while he should have been eating and throwing on his backpack.

Oh boy.  

Equal opportunity

Oops.

Brandon helped me with my settings and now anyone can comment.

That stray chin hair

has brought in reinforcements

and I'm not happy about it.  

  

I've got 19, so why am I concerned with the two?

That's right.  Nineteen nieces and nephews.  Each one magical and beautiful in their own right. I share my home state with 17 of them.  I get to chart their growth, hear their laughter, listen to tales of school, and sports and even their crushes.

I am spoiled indeed.

And then there are the two.

Two of my nieces boarded the plane back to Boston yesterday.  Each time we part ways I wonder if they will remember.  Remember how we giggled together.  How I whispered secrets to them while cuddling them close. Remember how much I love them.

I remind myself that reconnecting can be like seeing "that special friend" again.  You know the kind. The friend you don't have to keep in close contact with to know you love each other.  You move effortlessly back into the relationship the minute you're in each others presence.  It's moving on from where you are without wasting time catching up on the past.  

Maybe somewhere in their little hearts they've made a place.  

Maybe that place will whisper to them that I'm 

"that special friend." 

I feel like I'm in a snow globe

watching it float to the ground just so.
Six and a half new inches 

since 

9:00 a.m. 

I 

picture 

myself 

sipping

MarieBelle hot chocolate

while wearing 

my favorite plaid pajamas 

and fuzzy slippers.

My reality consists of a snow blower, frozen jeans, 

dripping hair, smeared mascara.

No matter.

It makes me smile just the same 

just as long as it all melts in a few days  

and guaranteed it will  

this IS Utah after all

And so my day began ~

12:00 a.m.  

climb into bed

12:30 a.m.  

fetch water for youngest

1:00 a.m.   

let dog out to do his duty

1:15 a.m.   

dog barking wildly, won't come in . . . fearful he'll wake up neighbors

6:00 a.m.  

Bo to Bishopric meetings

7:00 a.m.  

wake from nightmare to see offspring eating valentine candy at foot of bed

7:30 a.m.  

receive belated valentine's card from son with the "f" word in it. that's right. fart

8:00 a.m.  

four year old announces she won't wear newly purchased Sunday outfit

8:15 a.m.  

booger on Nick's back.  older son claims accidental sneeze.  Nick says otherwise.

8:30 a.m.  

shuffle into church in middle of opening song.  sit on front row

8:30 a.m. - 11:30 a.m.   

hold eyelids open manually

12:15 p.m.  

a visit from R.S. presidency

12:45 p.m.  

power nap

1:30 p.m.  

watch Madagascar II with kids and eat entire package of Oreos

3:30 p.m.  

visit from close friends.  homemade granola, plates ~ perfect color of blue, Viactive

5:00 p.m.  

monthly b-day celebration at grandma & grandpa's

6:00 p.m.  

sing Happy Birthday four times

7:00 p.m.  

retro apron, fabulous cheese, spending money for something frivolous, breathtaking photo

8:00 p.m.  

bask in chaos of family, smile to self 

9:00 p.m.  

round up shoes, divvy out hugs, pile into minivan

10:00 p.m. 

wipe off little chocolaty faces, say prayers, give thanks

another sunday

another birthday 

My Happy Place

The Lava Roll 

at Happy Sumo

with Brandon

on a Saturday night

Where it's at

Happy Valentine's Day 

to the four little monkeys 

that climb into bed with me 

each morning 

and to the good looking guy

who cuddles me back in 

at the end of each day.

Waiting on the World to Change

My oldest son's life is complicated.  I'm not at liberty to share his struggles but I will say that he is one of the strongest people I have ever known. 

Today he stood in front of the entire 6th grade, their parents and the faculty and lip synced 

"Waiting on the World to Change" by John Mayer.  

Brandon and I stood in awe with tears streaming down our faces. 

"Me and all my friends

We're all misunderstood

They say we stand for nothing

And there's no way we ever could

Now we see everything that's going wrong

With the world and those who lead it

We just feel like we don't have the means

To rise above and beat it

So we keep waiting

(waiting)

Waiting on the world to change

We keep on waiting

(waiting)

Waiting on the world to change

One day our generation

Is gonna rule the population

So we keep waiting

(waiting)

Waiting on the world to change

Brayden, after seeing you today there is no doubt that you will be one to Change the World.

Mmmm

I got to sleep with this last night.

It was one of the best nights of

no sleep

I've ever had.

shrimp, asparagus, Israeli style couscous with red quinoa . . .

My sister commondered my kitchen last night.  She gave my two oldest an impromptu cookingclass full of useful tips like cleaning raw shrimp, chopping cilantro and cooking couscous.  This is nothing short of a miracle considering she ate food straight from a can all through college . . . and a little beyond.  

Married to the Market

One of my favorite things about my sweetheart is that he never brings work home with him.  I'm married to a financial advisor and I have no idea what the DOW did today, yesterday or even last month.  When he walks through the door at the end of the day he steps effortlessly back into the roll of husband and father, cook and math tutor.  His warm embrace is all the assurance I need. 

SiTTinG

The last time I gave my appearance any real thought was on the way to the hospital to give birth to my firstborn.  Now that I'm a mom, makeup and wardrobe have ranked somewhere beneath dental visits and annual exams (neither of which have happened annually by the way).    Now that my kids have grown a little older and more independent I've had time to take note of my appearance once again.

Where did those smile lines come from?  When did I start getting more grey hairs than I could pluck?  Why in the world can't I eat a whole bottle of squeeze cheese without gaining weight anymore?  And that wardrobe  . . . HELLO!  Has anyone owned more brown, black and grey?!

I got a call from Jeff Hein a few days ago.  Jeff is an extremely talented local artist.  He's also a client of Brandon's.  He was calling to ask me if I'd be willing to model for his

 latest project.  

Me?  Model?

Sure.  Do  you want me to wear brown, black or grey?

Although sitting for a portrait felt about as desirable as that trip to the dentist or annual exam, I decided I would do it. 

So I went today.  And I sat.  And I sat.  And I sat some more.  He scrutinized, sketched and scrutinized some more.  He said many nice things like how symmetrical my face is and how well I can sit motionless and how easy my hair is to sketch because it's so straight.  Compliments that anyone would love to hear.

It was four hours of reconnecting with myself and my 30 something appearance.  I've decided that my smile lines are a good thing and that my body is just fine at it's new weight. 

I still think my hair and closet are begging for  a little color . . .

Sisters are SOOO overrated . . .

That used to be my frame of mind anyway.  My sister and I have never been in the same time in life.  She's years younger than I am and so I felt cheated when I couldn't call her up to discuss marriage, work or babies.  She moved to Boston shortly after she graduated from college, met the love of her life and got married . . . just after I had given birth to my FOURTH child.  Now there were miles and miles that would keep us from double dates, play dates at the park with our little ones and late night drives just to "talk."  I felt cheated.  "Sisters are overrated," I would tell those that were mourning the fact that they didn't have a sister.  

I'm not sure what changed all of that for me.  Maybe it was holding Becky's newborn up close and snuggling into her neck for the first time.  Maybe it was spending time in Becky's home and seeing the amazing mother and wife she has become.  It could be the discovery of "video chat" that has allowed us those late night talks I was yearning for.  It may be knowing that there is someone on the other side of the country that just "gets me."  She knows my weaknesses, my talents, my past and my present.  She loves me and accepts me just the way I am . . . even knowing all she does.

Becky's coming to town today.  I think I'll share a bit of chocolate with her and talk late into the night about everything, and nothing at all . . .

Don't think me irreverent

because of the title I've chosen for this blog.  I don't mean to suggest that I have the patience of Job.  In fact, quite the opposite is true.  My mom likes to say when I was young, and I had my mind set on something, "I wanted it either right now or yesterday."  Over the past 30 something years, not much has changed.  Let me make it clear here that my wants are not monetary.  They generally involve my family . . . my children more specifically. Children, just by their inherent nature, demand patience.  It's an interesting dilemma that I find myself in.

I've been working on this virtue.  I've been working on it long and hard.  To be honest with you, it's not the work that's killing me, it's the WAITING.