You Ready to Get Down, You Funky Party Weasel?

Some of the women in my ward organize an informal beach day every week during the summer. We show up sometime in the morning at the designated beach and eventually other families show up as well.  The kids share beach toys and the adults share beach umbrellas, beach tents and the occasional sunblock. My girls and I began attending about midway through the summer last year and eventually it got easier. This year I was so looking forward to summer just because of the beach day. Every week I get to talk with wonderful people while our children play happily in the sand, the waves, and sometimes charcoal from long ago beach fires.  It's always mess. There is just no way to keep the sand from getting into EVERYTHING, someone usually gets a sunburn, but it is so worth it.

This week one of the regular attendees was having a birthday. A friend and I planned to surprise her at beach day: She'd do the cupcakes, I'd bring the candles. The day before other people wanted to pitch in as well, so I brought the candles and the lighter, another person brought the cupcakes, another one brought frosting and another one brought little treats for the kids, since there are always hordes of children at the beach but only twenty-four cupcakes.

Everyone in charge of bringing something showed up a little early to make sure it was all there and ready to go. It was so well organized. 

Except we forgot to make sure the birthday girl was coming. Maybe too much of a surprise party? 

And hour and a half in the birthday girl was sent a text, quizzing her about her arrival at beach day. She responded she had piles of laundry to do and decided it would be more responsible to do it instead of spending all day lounging on a beach. Another text was sent implying her cupcakes would be eaten without her. She responded she had no idea anything had been planned and that she was on her way! 

So yeah, maybe we were a little too secretive on the planning of the surprise party. Suddenly I see the value of that person who is assigned to make sure the birthday person arrives at the surprise party. I'll have to remember that for future events. 

If I Was at Full Slayer Power, I'd be Punning Right About Now

As Ward Clerk, Drek is in on all the bishopric meetings so he knew what my knew calling was going to be weeks before I did and was even in on the discussions. Last week at church Drek and I met with a member of the bishopric for my new calling.  Drek sat next to me.

I am the new Personal Progress Leader and Young Women Assistant Camp Director.

I actually hit Drek. Seriously? Young Women camp? ME?

I must have this calling for a reason. I'm just not sure what it is. Maybe it's to get over my intense dislike of Young Women camp. Or to replace my bad memories of  Young Women with good memories.

After spending a few hours looking up Personal Progress ideas on Pinterest I've decided that my number challenge will be my lack of ability to craft. I am just not crafty enough to hold this calling. I also discovered that for some unknown reason, everything to do with Personal Progress must involve a pun.  Are we prepping these girls for their divine roll as superheros? Fighting evil is good, fighting evil while interjecting the occasional snappy pun?  Even better.

It's going to be great. The current Young Women leader is amazing. The Camp Director is amazing. Supporting them will be no problem at all.

Prepare yourselves for some future posts about Personal Progress puns and crafts!

This is a Gift That, As Sisters, We Claim

I’ve been given a few hints that my calling as Compassionate Service Leader is about to come to an end. As long as my new calling isn't in Young Women, or Scouts, I'm happy about any change. Compassionate Service Leader has been by far the most stressful calling I have ever had. I feel like I'm never doing enough and it's always on my mind. At the same time, I know God has looked after me this whole time. I know he has directed me. I only hope I've done enough.

I wanted to share this last story:

As Compassionate Service Leader I feel a need to serve the sisters in the ward and protect them from asking too much. The chain of service is this: First to help is Self, then family, then visiting teachers, then Compassionate Service committee and only if there is still more help needed that no one in that chain can handle, I  send out an email to everyone asking for more help.  This has worked really well for me, and a lot of that is because we have some really great visiting teachers in my ward.

But, there is always that one companionship. We had an emergency a few months back, and the visiting teachers not only didn't know about it, they didn't care. They were too busy, too tired, too...unwilling? When I asked them to provide a meal they wanted me to send out an email to the sisters in the ward asking someone else to do it. After several emails back and forth of me trying to explain the chain of responsibility  I finally gave up. I took on their burden on myself  and saw the emergency through to its happy ending. I came away from the experience with some resentment and a feeling of having to do everything myself.

It was right after that a new Relief Society presidency was called, and the one person on my committee  on which I relied so heavily was called as the Relief Society president. Her position on my committee was not replaced, and I was left with an even bigger feeling of having to do it all myself.

A few weeks later I was supposed to take dinner to two different families in the ward on the same night. It seems in the year I have had this calling there is rarely a week that goes by when I am not making a meal for two families, but rarely is it on the same day. Anyway, of course that is the day Alexa fell and we went to the ER for stitches. As I watched the time pass, I realized I might be stuck in the ER all day and not have time to make the dinners. As I thought about it, I decided to text the new Relief Society president that I was in the ER with Alexa, and I might not be able to take dinner to these two families, but I didn't yet know. After a few more hours, I hadn't gotten a response. It was then I decided to call a sister on my committee. She is a single mother who works during the day. She took on herself the responsibility of calling the widows in the ward every single month to check up on them. Because she does that, I had never asked her to do anything else until this emergency. She didn't answer, so I left a voice message. As soon as I hung up I realized she probably couldn't hear a word I said because Alexa was screaming the whole time. Feeling there was nothing else to do, I just waited.

We got home from the ER around four in the afternoon. I started the dinners and then texted the Relief Society president that I was home, Alexa was fine, and I was starting on the dinners. She instantly texted back that another sister was on her way to deliver one of the dinners. She said she didn't register that there were two dinners. I told her it wasn't a problem and I that I was delighted to only have to take one dinner. Surprised that the one dinner was already done, I then texted the sister on my committee to ignore any voice mails she got from me. She instantly called me. She said she had been in Wal Mart when she got my message and couldn't understand anything I was saying, but could tell I was under some stress. At that moment, she saw someone else in our ward wandering through the store and had her listen to the message. The only thing they could pick out was a name. She assumed I was asking her to take dinner over to this family so she picked up a frozen dinner in Wal Mart and drove it over to their house!

The amazing thing was that in both the text and the voice message, I mentioned BOTH families that needed dinners, but both the sisters only picked up on one of the names. Both families got dinners without any coordination. I was amazed. It was a true miracle. It was God telling me I am always looked after. I don't have to do everything myself, and after I am not the Compassionate Service Leader, other people will take up the burden and everything will be fine.

I am so grateful for this whole experience, but I will be very relieved when I get my new calling, even if it is in Young Women. Just as long it has nothing to do with Young Women camp. Or Scouts.

Why Else Would She Be Acting Like Such a b-i-t-c-h? Willow, I Think We're All a Little Too Old to be Spelling Things Out. A Bitcuh?

Friday night we babysat for a family with a bunch of kids right around Ash's age. For their family, Friday night is movie night, so we decided to pick a children's movie off of Netflix. 

"Make sure you check the rating to make sure it doesn't have any bad words." says five-year-old girl. 

"Yeah, like 'Stupid'" says three-year-old girl. 

"Or the F-word." says seven-year-old boy (with very foul languaged friends)  

"Fupid?" Ash asks. 

Due to Education Cutbacks, the Following Presidents Will Not Be Taught: Buchanan, Pierce, Carter, Bush, Bush...

The decision of schooling for my children weighs heavily on my mind. At the start of the 2013 school year, after an entire summer of indecision, I finally organized a little Preschool for Ash instead of enrolling her in any of the available preschools. I talked with several of the moms in our ward and soon I had six little girls at my house. Originally the idea was to do a sort of Joy school where the moms took turns teaching, but that never actually panned out. 

Once a week for three hours I would have six little princesses over at my house. We did circle time. We had art projects. We did science and math and always read a story. We did dance and music and singing and had a lot of outside time (Which, thanks to Drek's amazing backyard skills, meant swings, a sandbox, a playstructure, a slide, and later in the year...a trampoline!).  Over the year the girls learned the days of the week, the months of the year, the lifecycle of a frog and a butterfly and became quite proficient in basic addition. 

But the best part of our little Preschool were the comments the girls made. We had two girls in our group named L. As Ash said "We have both kinds of Ls." 

I started out just calling them "L" and "Little L" but that became too confusing. After one week I called out "L!" and one of them turned around and said "L? Or Other L?" Which cracked me up. After that I did what had been done in my elementary school: first name followed by the first inital of the last name; L H. and L N.  This worked great. Two weeks into this nickname I asked the girls if they knew why I called them L H. and L N. "Because those are your favorite letters?" "Because that's how you spell L?" "Because L H.'s favorite letter is H?" 

Wednesday was out last day of Preschool. We ended with a Teddy Bear Picnic. It was adorable. 

I'm glad it's summer, but it also starts the whole question up again: What am I going to for Ash's schooling next year?

It Doesn't Look Dangerous

This morning started off just like any other morning...me not having time to eat breakfast or get dressed because I'm so busy making breakfast, changing diapers, starting the laundry and encouraging my four-year old to do her morning chores. My breakfast was made, just uneaten. I had every intention of getting dressed, as soon as my one year old finished nursing.

At any rate we were on schedule! My four year old was dressed with her hair done and her teeth brushed. She was making her bed and we were on track to be all ready and out the door in thirty minutes, give or take. We had grocery shopping to do and a workout to attend.

Alexa decided she was done nursing so I put her down and stepped into the closet to grab my clothes. I saw Alexa stumble and fall. I saw her face hit the metal bed frame. She immediately started crying. I reached over, picked her up and turned her over. 

I knew right away she needed stitches. She had an awful gash from her nose through her lip. There was already blood pouring everywhere. 

Five minutes later we were in the car speeding toward Alexa's pediatrician, who was expecting us. I had thrown clothes on both Alexa and me, but other than grabbing my keys on the way out I really hadn't done anything else to get ready for the day. 

The pediatrician took one look and said he could not glue it back together and that a cut lip meant a plastic surgeon. She told me to drive her an hour away to the nearest children's hospital. he said he would call ahead and let them know we were coming. 

Drek wanted to come but his work is in the opposite direction and I thought speed was important. 

By the time we got to the E.R. Alexa had stopped bleeding and crying. It was only when I was getting Ash out of the car that I realized she didn't have shoes. Sigh. At least her hair was done. Mine sure wasn't. 

I carried both the girls inside and was delighted to see a fairly empty waiting room. Right away we were taken back to see a triage nurse who asked my questions and glanced at Alexa. I told her what the pediatrician said and she informed me that plastic surgery meant full sedation. That meant an I.V. That means Alexa's stomach needed to be empty. Since she had eaten seconds before she fell, we needed to wait another three hours before any procedure took place. 

Four hours later we were finally allowed out of the waiting room and into a hospital room shared by three other sick people. Alexa had been happy and cheerful for the first three hours, but now she was hungry and I wouldn't feed her. She was screaming. Ash was tired, bored and hungry. I was starving, thirsty and miserable. There are few places I hate worse than hospitals. 

After another thirty minutes the doctor finally saw us. She examined Alexa's injury. She announced she needed stitches both on her face and the inside of her mouth, but that it was a clean wound and her teeth didn't appear injured. She said she could stitch it up with a local anesthetic, or a plastic surgeon could stitch it up with full sedation. This conversation took place over a desperately hungry, screaming baby. I asked what the difference in scars would be: in five years? Nothing. She's a year old. All scars will disappear. The doctor could be ready in thirty minutes. It would take another ten minutes simply to alert the plastic surgeon he was needed. It could be hours before he was ready. 

So I opted for the local anesthetic. They strapped Alexa down and a nurse held her head. I I stroked her hair and tried to sing to her while the doctor put a very long needle into her face. Alexa SCREAMED. She screamed so hard she was shaking. It took thirty minutes for the doctor to stitch her up. Alexa screamed the whole  time. 

The second she was done and unstrapped I attempted to have her nurse. The doctor had commented that the inside cut was pretty bad and might prevent her from nursing. The doctor didn't realize Alexa was born a champion nurser. She ate with zero hesitation and zero problems. Three minutes later she was dead asleep. 

After an hour long car ride we arrived back at home. I was finally able to eat breakfast at four in the afternoon. 

Alexa is recovering. She should be fine. I hope she is too young to have any residual trauma. I know my trauma will stick with me for much longer than her scar will last. 

Can You See Anything That Can Tell Us Where You Are? Anything At All? OOH! FIRE EXTINGUISHER!

Ah, Sunland. One hundred degree weather, less than ten percent humidity, and lots and lots of dry, hot wind. After three years of perfect weather, we're finally experiencing what the locals around here have faced many times: Wildfires.

We're just fine. We're totally prepared for evacuation. But first, a scene from a Monday:

We had returned from our vacation and I could not find where I had left my keys. I wasn't worried, because Drek had given me little tracker tabs that I had attached to my keys so I could find them when they were lost. After I asked Drek how to use it, he said he hadn't ever gotten around to installing the app, so the tags were useless.

I reminded him that he had set up a back-up system for the pictures on my phone, so if I ever lost my phone (like I did at Disneyworld) I would still have the pictures. Alas, once I had lost my phone, we discovered he never set-up that app either, so we the pictures were lost (until we found the phone. Happy ending!)

We seem to be really good at planning for disaster, but really bad on follow-through. I should do these things myself, since I am the one that keeps losing my things, but it's so much easier to ask my computer-genius husband to do it for me.  So On Monday, after I found my keys, I asked Drek to make sure he installed both those apps.

Ok, fast-forward to fires: Smoke fills the air, helicopters are flying overheard, evacuation notices are being issued left and right, freeways are being shut down, I get an email telling me to check on the women I visit teach and let the Relief Society president know if anyone needs to evacuate.  Drek comes home a few hours early as his work building is only a few blocks away from a raging fire.

We go outside and stand on top of the play structure Drek made. We can see the whole neighborhood from up there. We watch the looming pillars of black smoke rising in every direction.

Drek: "Let's make a list of everything we need to grab if we are evacuated and let's make sure our 92-hour kits are ready to go."

Me: "Agreed. Let's also take picture of all our stuff so if our house burns down we can...I don't know. Fight the insurance company? Have proof we owned stuff?"

Drek: It couldn't hurt. I'll get that app set up on your phone so when you take pictures they will be saved on a back-up server. Just oin case your phone burns too."

Me: "And we should clean the house. You know, so I can take pictures."

Us: Ok! Let's go!

Again, really good at planning, not so good on follow-through. I start to clean. Drek plays with my phone. He gets the back-up installed, then decides to install the Tracker app. It's not compatible with my current OS. One thing leads to another. Two hours later he is restarting the desktop in order to completely re-boot my phone, which has already been wiped clean of all information. He has my phone and complete control of the computer. No pictures have been taken (he has my phone!). I haven't checked the 92-hour kits. He hasn't made an evacuation list.

The fires are getting closer. More helicopters, more smoke. From my tablet I get an responding email from on of the women I visit teach: She is being evacuated. Most of our ward is, apparently.

I ask Drek how we would know if we needed to evacuate.

"Reverse 911 calls."

"Do those only call landlines? Because we don't have a landline."

"I think so, but I downloaded an Emergency App for our county. It's tells us what areas are being evacuated."

"Oh! That's helpful! Where is your phone?"

Drek shrugs "I don't know."

I then get another email. This time from Drek's sister's family who lives in our same town. It's an email sent out to all the family telling them about the fires (that have now attracted national media attention) and that they are safe for now.

It occurs to me that I should probably let my family know the same thing. Maybe they already know about the fires. Maybe they've already tried calling. But my phone is dead, my gmail number is down, and we're not answering Drek's phone. Huh.  Maybe we are already suppose to evacuate and no one can get a hold of us to tell us. Huh.

"It works!" Drek announces. "But apparently this is a not your account?"

I look over his shoulder at my phone. Two years ago Drek had an iphone. He had apparently restored all of that iphone's data onto my phone. All my contacts: gone. But all the music we thought we had lost two years ago was also restored! Hooray! My whole music collection! I missed you!

The phone rings. It's Drek's mom. She tried calling Drek's phone but he didn't answer. She is calling because my mother called her after not being able to reach either of us. Ah, so my family does already know about the fires.

After calling parents to assure them we are safe, we discover our area is not being evacuated, so we really are safe for now. I also find several missed texts on my phone, all from numbers my phone no longer recognizes. I have to send a lot of "Sorry, I just lost all my contacts, who is this?" And then I start taking pictures because at least my house it clean!  And that turned out to be the important thing on the list: We were never evacuated. So we're good. Until the next fire. Maybe then we can completely re-program the desktop.

Why, It's Like a Dream. A Wonderful Dream Come True.

While doing the research for our Disney World vacation, I came across the idea of "Tinkerbell gifts". Basically, you leave gifts for your kids in your hotel for Disney's housekeeping (called Mousekeeping) to find and when you come and your kids come back to your hotel after a magical day, they find Tinkerbell has left them a gift.

I was incredulous. I was spending my entire tax return on a vacation for my kids and the suggestion is to spend more money to give my kids...more? Uh, I don't think so. That seems to be a perfect formula for raising entitled children.

A few days later I was going through a box of hand-me-down clothes for my girls given to me by a neighbor. In the box was a Minnie Mouse nightgown.  I wondered if having Minnie Mouse on Ash's night clothes would somehow make her excited to go to bed. And then I thought that I really needed her to be excited to go to bed while we were on our vacation. And then:  lightbulb.

Over the next year I saved all the Disney Pajamas people gave us as hand me-downs. With a few weeks to go until Disney,  I had four pajamas for Ash, but only three for Alexa. Nana bought her a brand new set and I admit I splurged when I saw some darling Disney pajama on clearance at Ross. In the end I had four Pajamas for each girl.

I printed off copies of a letter to Mousekeeping, one to leave on each of the four days:

Dear Mousekeeping, Thank you so much for cleaning our room! We really, really appreciate the work you do, especially me - as the mom. Because you do the chores I can truly enjoy my vacation! You are actually the highlight of my trip! 

 Would you mind leaving out these little “Tinkerbell Gifts” for my daughters? They are just Disney Pajamas; one for my 1 year old and one for my 4 year old. It’s our first time at Disney (any Disney park) and I want to make sure they are just as excited about sleeping as they are about playing in the parks. Please feel free to set them up or display them however you want. Thank you ever so much!

I printed them with a little picture:

And of course I brought enough cash to leave a tip along with my note every day.

Lastly, we brought Stitch with us. I think they are called Tinkerbell gifts because you are supposed to bring a Tinkerbell whom they pose with the gifts, but Stitch (also and hand-me-down) is better than Tinkerbell.

Our schedule at Disney World was kid-friendly: We made it to the opening of the park in the morning and rode a few rides before any lines formed. We then used our Fastpasses to avoid more lines. By then it would be between noon and one and we would leave the park, go back to our hotel, and take naps.

When we walked in the door, we would find scenes such as this:

Our beds were made, our room was cleaned, the pajamas were laid out, and Stitch got a hold of of one of Ash's book and was apparently teaching himself to read.

Ash LOVED it. She loved her "new" pajamas. As soon as she saw them she would strip off her clothes and get dressed in her new pajamas that Stitch has left her. It was only nap time, but, hey! Sleep is sleep! She took a nap every single day, so we must have done something right!

After naps we would either go swimming, play around our hotel, or go back to the parks for a a few hours.  Once we got back to our room for Bedtime, Ash would be her usual, reluctant-to-go-to-bed self.  One reminder about her new pajamas and she would jump right in the bath, eager to wear her Disney Pajamas.

I wish I could say it worked just as well on Alexa, but she is only one. I think the whole experience was a little over her head.  I have no doubt she won't have any memories of this trip. Which is good, in a way. If we ever go back to a Disney park I don't want her to expect new pajamas every night. I  can only raise one entitled daughter at a time.

You Can't Run Away From Trouble. There Ain't No Place That Far

During college my sister did an internship at Walt Disney World. There were plans to go there as a family while she was there (and could get us into the parks for free!) but it never happened. Ever since then, we have always said we would "eventually" take our families there. 

A year and a half ago my wonderful sister called me up and said she was sick of saying "eventually". So we finally made the plans. We bought plane tickets. We booked hotels. We made our Fast Pass reservations. 

My sister is an amazing vacation planner and she did most of the planning. She figured out what day we would visit which park, which rides we should go on in which order and so on. We spent hours and hours talking about our plans, amending them and re-amending them. 

Last Saturday we got on a plane for Orlando. We rode the Magical Express from the airport to our on-property hotel. Monday we went to Epcot. Tuesday we did Magic Kingdom. Wednesday we swam at Typhoon Lagoon. Thursday was Hollywood Studios and Friday and Saturday we re-visited Magic Kingdom and Epcot, respectively. 

Our planning paid off. Everything went smoothly, we missed a huge chunk of the crowds and we only had to wait in line for more then twenty minutes once.  

It was Friday we ran into a bit if trouble: We were there when the park opened and went straight to Frontierland to ride Splash Mountain. Because Alexa is too small for these rides, Drek and I take turns riding with Ash while the other stays with Alexa.  For this ride, Drek waited with Alexa while Ash and I did Splash Mountain. Right before we climbed into our floating log I stuffed my phone into the front right pocket of my jeans. Right after the big drop (and thank goodness not right before!) the ride stopped. While we waited for them to start us back up again I wanted to check the time. I reached for my phone: It was gone. My pocket was empty. I searched around us: no phone. The ride started moving again. We made it a few feet before it shut down again. I continued my search to no avail. Once again we moved forward and once again we stopped. And then a thought occurred to me: was it possible that my phone fell out of the ride into water on the big drop? Was it possible that the phone was on the ride's track, messing up the gears and that's why the ride kept stopping? 

As soon as we pulled in to unload, I searched though the log. I alerted the cast member to my missing phone, and she also searched: nothing. She shrugged and suggested I try the lost and found in a few hours. 

That night we rode The Jungle Cruise. It's located close to Splash Mountain and is also on water. At the end, we got stuck and had to wait for ten minutes not knowing what had caused the stop. Right after that we rode Pirates of the Caribbean: also located next to Splash Mountain and also on the water.  Right in the middle or Tortuga the ride stopped and we were stuck for over twenty minutes listening to the same two minute sound track. Drek wondered aloud whether the three systems were connected and whether or not my iphone could be responsible for jamming up all three rides all day long. 

After we finally escaped Tortuga we went back to Splash Mountain. Ash and Drek rode on it (and got stuck!) while Alexa and I asked every single cast member about my phone. One of them assured me that nothing falls out of the logs, and it was very unlikely that my phone had fallen out into track. Still, no phone turned up and all the cast members couldn't explain why the rides kept stopping. 

 The next day my sister received a text from my phone, sent by one of the cast members. My phone was returned to me without any explanation as to where it had been found or how it has disappeared Still, all my pictures were still on it and I was so happy to have them back. And after all, what good is a year and a half of planning if you don't have pictures to show for it? 

...Don't be Mad... I'm Not Mad, I'm Indifferent, Ok. I Said I Was Sorry. You Don't Need to Apologize to Me Cause I'm Not Mad.

To balance my last post of self congratulation, I bring you a post of self deprecation.

I am Drek's appointed hair-cutter. I've cut his hair hundreds of times. I'm sure I will cut it hundreds more. A few weeks ago Drek announced he needed a haircut and asked if I would do it that night.

Everything was set up. Drek was sitting there, ready for me to start. I don't know what was wrong with me. Maybe it was the fact that I had a cold, or the sleep deprivation, or maybe I'm just an airhead. Whatever the reason, as I was moving to make the first pass over his hair with the buzzers, while I was in mid swing, I realized I didn't attach the guide comb; it was just the straight buzzer.

I tried to stop. I tried to change course. It was too late. I cut his hair down to the scalp. Right on top of his head. Right in front.

I gasped and jerked the buzzer away. Drek look at me, startled.

"What happened?" He asked

I didn't answer. My eyes were wide with horror as I tried to gauge the damage.

Drek jumped up and looked in the mirror. After a pause he said "You think I should go for a new look?"

Bless that man.

We weighed our options: There was no chance of thinning or blending. We could either buzz his whole head (I said no) he could shave his head and rock a bald look (He said no) he could sport a Mohawk (that was a combined no) or he could wear a hat.

And so Drek got a hat.  He actually looks really good in a hat.

I tired again today. His hair had grown enough that I could cut all his hair down to match. Crisis over. Phew.

In Every Job That Must Be Done There Is An Element of Fun. You Find the Fun and SNAP! The Job's a Game

I love being a mom. I just love. it's my favorite thing I have ever done.

Sometimes I have a breakthrough where I think to myself "I nailed that. Man, I'm good." They are few and far between, but they happen.

Ash was having a hard time doing chores. I'm not talking about breaking rocks in the summer heat or scrubbing the floors with a toothbrush. I'm talking about basic morning chores everyone needs to do: Eat breakfast, clear the table, brush hair, brush teeth, get dressed, make bed.

Ash is very capable of doing all these things. She seemed to be lacking motivation. I tried a chore chart. I tried a chore card. I tried bribes. I tried threatening. Ash is one of those children who is given a chore that should take five minutes and somehow turns it into a three hour chore and in the end it's still not done. She has mastered the opposite of efficient.

Here come the part where I brag:

I turned her morning chores into a playlist. Every morning I play the same six songs. Each song corresponds with a chore. For instance, when she is supposed to be getting dressed, the song that plays is You're never Fully Dressed Without A Smile from Annie. When she is supposed to brush her teeth, the song is Elmo's Brush Teeth Song Which, if you haven't heard it, just might be Sesame Street's best Pop song ever. She must finish that chore during the song. There is no pausing. Once the playlist is over, all her chores need to be done.

The first few days I was right there with her, keeping her on track. Then she did it by herself. it's been a few months and now she's figured out actual time management tricks: If she grabs her toothbrush and hairbrush at the same time, she only has to make one trip. If she gets dressed first thing in the morning, before we eat breakfast, when that song comes on she can dance along. It's also adorable to see a four year old singing her heart out to Annie.

And just like that, she is self sufficient in the morning, I don't have to nag, and I've taught her time management and efficiency. Man, I'm good.

Here is the list. If you have other song suggestions I'd love to hear them!

Finish breakfast and green smoothie
Clear the table
Get dressed
Brush hair
Brush Teeth
Make bed

I've Hidden It. Somewhere You'll Never Find It. It's In That Pot, Isn't It?

The bad news is I have lost my wallet. The last time I saw it was ten days ago. Usually when I lose my phone or my wallet it's only missing for one or two days. Over a week means it's really, really lost.

The good news is that my house has never been so clean and organized. I have spent hour after hour looking for my wallet. I've thoroughly cleaned the playroom, the laundry room, the front closet, my closet, my bedroom, and the front room. I've moved furniture and vacuumed underneath, I've decluttered and donated two giant boxes to Goodwill. My house looks amazing.

The more good news is that I've found everything I have ever lost over the last three years, except my wallet. I put a baby carrier into storage a few years ago. After Alexa was born I went looking for it, never found it, and assumed I had given it away. Nope! I found it!  I got a book as a present and a few days later it went missing. I thought it had been taken to the Library by mistake. NOPE! Found it! The filters to the Nosafrida disappeared. I was about to order some new ones. No need! Found them! Ash's missing puzzle piece? Found! A missing generic die? Found! Alexa's spare teething toy? It was under the dresser!

I have learned several lessons form this excitement:

-Ash likes to hide things between the back of the couch and the cushions.
-Ash likes to hide things between her bed and wall
-Ash likes to hide thing UNDER drawers
-Apparently Ash likes to hide things. I think I need to keep a closer eye on her.
-I have way to much. I need to get rid of EVERYTHING
-I need a tracking device on my keys (which I have, thanks to Drek!) AND my wallet (which I will have, as soon as I find it and/or get a new one)

When I asked Ash if she knew where to find my wallet, she answered "It's with your phone." I showed her that I had my phone but not my wallet. "Then you need to lose your phone and when you find it, it will be with your wallet!"

Why Would You Waste an Egg Like That?

Look! Easter Eggs! 

This year Ash thought it would be fun to dye eggs, then put the dyed egg into the egg carton and spoon more dye over the egg. This resulted in a cool rainbowing effect: 

 Drek did two tricks this year. This one he put oil into the dye to create a cool marble pattern:

And this one he dipped a toothbrush in the undiluted food coloring and flicked the paint onto the egg: 

I cut tape into the shapes I wanted and applied to to the egg. After I dyed the egg, I pulled the tape off:

On this one I then dyed the again: 

For my last egg I added Googly eyes, 

which Ash liked so much she decided to copy: 

You Are Perhaps the Most Resourceful Individual I Have Ever Known

Over the weekend we enjoyed a small camping trip. Our church arranged it, chose the spot and time and sent out reminders that the they would provide breakfast but each family was in charge of their own dinner. There was also a note that the festivities would start at four in the afternoon, and that a giant propane grill and a fire in a fire pit would be provided for the families to cook their dinner. 

Drek has passed on his love of camping to Ash, who was so excited about our adventure and decided she needed to dictate what we would have for dinner: Hot dogs. Drek was thrilled. He bought fancy hot dogs for them and I bought a package of Vegan Smart dogs for me. 

We arrived at the campground at three fifteen, found ourselves to be the first arrivals and promptly chose the best spot to set up our tent. After arranging our temporary abode, a few rounds of horseshoes and a romp on the playground (it was a nice camping spot!) the next family finally showed up. That was about five. Another family arrived at five fifteen and it was a steady trickle after that. 

At six, the family in charge of propane arrived. Drek set up the giant grill, hooked up the propane and tried to cook our hot dogs. 

After a lot of troubleshooting and wondering why our hotdogs were only mildly less-cold, it was decided that the propane tank was nearly empty. No other tanks had been brought, so of course someone was sent back into town to get a propane tank for breakfast. Propane for dinner, however, that was now off the table. Also there would be no campfire. And starting your own fire is not allowed. 

Not to be discouraged, Drek and Ash went out with the unquenchable camping spirit: Be resourceful! Be creative! Cook hot dogs! 

A few minutes later they returned to camp with deliciously cooked hot dogs.  Drek had borrowed the camp master's microwave. The resourcefulness! The creativity! The cooked hot dogs! 

After a delicious dinner we curled into our sleeping bags and slept as best you can on a camping trip with fifty other families all close together. Sleeping becomes more difficult when one of those families has a child that cries. All. Night. Long. Ah, camping. 

But the next morning we had an amazing and plentiful breakfast, an Easter egg hunt,  and lots of rides on the zipline! Ziplines make the best camping trips. 

You Know, You Wreck Everything You Touch. Why Not Try and Make Something for a Change?

My Sophomore year in High School I took a ceramics class with my two best friends. I really disliked the teacher and the set-up was a little pathetic: thirty kids in the class but only four pottery wheels. Still, the class became one of my favorite classes in the entire four years.  I attribute most of that to the fact that we were largely unsupervised in the class and, like I said, I had my two best friends with me, but we took other classes together and I didn't enjoy them as much as ceramics. I think there was something so therapeutic about molding, sculpting and just playing with the clay that really resonated with me. 

As a fifteen year old I had grand visions of becoming an amazing potter as an adult. I would dig my own clay out of the earth, spend hours in my pottery studio, fire my amazing creations in the kiln I made myself in my backyard and sell the finished products for thousands of dollars.   Sadly, the class was only one year and since it had fulfilled the art requirement I needed to graduate, there was no reason to take another class. I never really thought about it again. 

A few months ago a friend of mine emailed me about a Groupon deal for a two-session pottery class. I jumped at the chance. 

A while later the two of us found ourselves at the class, armed with clay and sitting at a potter's wheel. Once the wheel started spinning and I felt the clay under my hands, all my grand visions of backyard kilns and thousand dollar creations came flooding back to me. 

The teacher had a simpler vision: we could create two pots. And here they are:  

It took three hours. Three hours with no kids, no laundry, no cooking. Three hours to hang out with my friend. Three hours to mold, sculpt and play with clay. It was wonderful. 

We left our pots there to be fired in the kiln. Several weeks later we went back to glaze our pots (something I have never done before).  I made them look like this: 

A few days later our pots were all done and I went and picked mine up: 

I loved it. I want to take more classes! I want to join the pottery club and spend my evenings and weekends creating things out of clay!  But money. And time. Sigh.

Still, I'm not going to wait another ten plus years to get my hands dirty again!

And the Children Aren't Puppies, They're People. And Sooner or Later, Nana, People Have to Grow Up.

Today my baby Alexa turned one year old. That means a party! 

The food was served in baby food jars. We had fruit salad and veggies: 

Goldfish, raisins and cheerios:

even the strawberry cake was served inside baby food jars!

Alexa seemed to enjoy it. She is only one, and since ine-year-olds aren't fans of large crowds, the guest list was..well, very short. Me. Ash. Daddy. Amy. And Princess Alexa, of course. But I think she'll appreciate the pictures once she's a little older.

As You Can see, My Young Apprentice, Your Friends Have Failed. Now Witness the Firepower of This Fully Armed and Operational Battle Station!

In the midst of the Rebellion of our Backyard the rabbits and ground squirrels were slaughtering our garden plants, our grass, and our soil. Holes populated the barren dirt. Traps were proven obsolete. It seemed nothing to suppress the Rebellion. 

And then Drek built an owl house from scratch. We hoisted it high into our palm tree and hoped somewhere, sometime, an owl family would move into the house and rescue our yard from the war zone it had become. 

We waited and waited and waited. 

At last! We can hear baby owls inside the owl house! We catch glimpses of the parents around our house, and Drek even saw one devouring a mouse that had the misfortune of being stark white against a brown backdrop. We haven't actually seen any owls in the box, and we can't look inside because it is so high up, but owlets are very noisy, and we can hear them!

It seems the rabbit population has dropped and in the panic of avoiding the owls two ground squirrels have been caught in our traps. Finally! Once owlets grow up into hunters, we will crush the rebels and bring this war to an end! 

I am a Pretend Guy That... Comes Around... And... Gets Run Over by a Lawnmower Blade!

April marks three years since we moved into this house. We bought it as a foreclosure and have slowly...oh so slowly...been fixing it up to make it look less abandoned. When we first moved in, our to-do list was several dozen pages. Somewhere on the first page was to get a front lawn. Right away we realized if we installed a lawn, we would have to take care of it. Mowing. Watering. Yuck. Also, sod is crazy expensive. So a front lawn was moved back a few pages. 

Three years later, we finally decided to tackle it. We decided we wanted grass! We decided we wanted mulch! We decided we wanted landscaping! Here are the results: 

Before:  

After: 

 Before:

After: 

Before: 

After: 

 Before:

After:

And some more after:

We decided to divide the yard: A lawn area and a mulch/plant area. We also added parking by the road and put in railroad ties to discourage cars from driving on our very expensive grass. Grass that we now have to water. And mow. Yuck.  

If you’re enough lucky to be Irish... You’re lucky enough

Confession: We didn't have Lucky Charms for breakfast this morning. We're trying not to have sugar, so we had green smoothies and oatmeal. 

After breakfast we had to move fast! I had invited over thirty families to our second annual St Patrick's Day Irish Party for the Kids of the Ward Who Aren't in School at Ten in the Morning!  (The title could use a little work) 

We had more families than last year, but the best part was the treats! Everyone was asked to "bring a green, orange and/or white treat to share." Last year I did the fruit salad. This year we did green smoothies in rainbow cups: 

(Ash made the colored sugar herself! Dipping all those cups took an hour!) 

And quesadillas made from spinach tortillas and cut into shamrock shapes. I had the ranch for dipping in the middle contained by green and orange bell peppers.

Last year the majority of people brought carrots. A few served them on a platter, but I did get a few bags of baby carrots handed to me with a shrug "I just couldn't think of anything else that was healthy." 

This year we had some great ideas! Only one person brought carrots, and it was served with celery and cucumber!  We had a cabbage salad, a delicious white bean salad with carrots and cilantro, dried coconut snacks, popcorn, cutie oranges... all fantastic ideas! 

The decorations turned out well too, if I say so myself.  

The party was a huge success! I'm already planning next year's party!

After all that, dinner was just a family affair: asparagus, carrots, baked mashed potatoes and homemade soda bread:

Maybe next year we'll have Lucky Charms for dessert. 

Banana. So Funny.

Slowly, so very slowly, we are fixing up the front yard of our house. Our most recent fix-up: banana trees!

They are trees that grow bananas! Bananas will grow on these trees! Real bananas! Edible bananas! Grow, my little banana harvest, grow!