Sunday, November 23, 2014

Drinking Fountain Adventures

Thursday night, we had a Relief Society meeting. 55 ladies came, which meant there were probably 30 kids in the nursery. Brad was one of the babysitters. It was a zoo. Brad probably took Lia to get a drink so he could escape the madness temporarily, and this is her little adventure of getting a drink on her own. 

Sometimes it's a chore getting Lia to drink enough water every day. If we had drinking fountain in our kitchen, I think she'd spend her day drinking water. :)

Friday Nights at Home

Wednesday, November 12, 2014

Every night, Brad goes in to check on Lia while she sleeps. Sometimes she wakes up, rolls over, and goes back to sleep, and sometimes, she wakes up and thinks it’s time to be awake. Tonight is the latter. It’s 10:33, Brad just walked out of her room, and she is suddenly so sad to be in her crib. Some early mornings or late nights when he sneaks in to give her kisses, I hold my breath because I’m tired and hope to get some more rest. But regardless of the circumstances—whether she wakes or not—I feel an abundance of gratitude. 1—I have a husband who is so in love with his family and does everything in his power to take care of us. And 2—I get to be the one who snuggles the babies in the night (and sometimes it’s all through the night). I get to sing them little songs and rub their backs and let them rest their heads on my shoulders. They wrap their tiny fingers around mine, and I run my fingers through their hair and tell them how grateful we are that they are part of our family.

It’s now 10:37. Lia found her binky, and now she’s peacefully asleep again, for now at least. I love my job.

These are the two I get to snuggle.


A few weeks ago, we celebrated our first Halloween in Oklahoma. We went to some friends’ house and ate dinner, trick-or-treated at their house alone, came home and passed out candy, and then went to a food truck event downtown where we met up with a few residents and at pizza and empanadas. On our way home, Brad and I talked about our childhood Halloweens. We talked about room-mother parties and getting dressed up for the costume parades through the hallways of the school. My mom was always a Room Mother. She’d dress up as a witch and would paint her face green. She’d wear a crooked nose, scraggly black wig and hat, and a black dress and cape. The kids in my class would always ask if my mom, the witch, was going to come back to help with the party. I can still feel the sense of pride I’d feel knowing that my mom—the witch—was coming to help. I secretively hope my children feel the same excitement and pride in me that I did—and still do—for my mom.

Welcome Back

Remember how in 2012 I said I was going to start blogging again? I was right. I just needed a break until now. A few things have brought me back to the blogging world.

1. My computer was stolen a few years ago, which means all of my journals during that time are gone. 

2. Then my next computer crashed about six months ago. Again, all of my journals during that time are gone. 

3. Then I started backing up my journals, and my hard drive crashed. get the idea. 

I want to preserve the important and not-super-important moments in my family's lives, and if I put them here, they can't be lost or stolen.

President Eyring gave a talk called "O Remember, Remember" where he shares an experience of hearing the words in his mind, "I'm not giving you these experiences for yourself. Write them down." Recently, I've felt the same nudges to write down my experiences so that, as President Eyring said, "my children could have it someday when they would need it."

Sunday, September 23, 2012

Under Construction

Does everything seem a little off? It's because it is. Check back soon: This construction shouldn't last long.


The Management (I've always wanted to say that.)

Wednesday, September 19, 2012

I'm A Green Thumb Wannabe--Or--The Day I Proved The Lowe's Woman Wrong

 Note: Check out the garden, not the trashy backyard. We'll give it a facelift once of these days.

I grew up on a farm, so I guess you could say my dad is a large-scale gardener, but I’ve never personally grown a garden until this year.

My sister-in-law gave me a Square-Foot Gardening book, and after reading it, I suddenly had to grow a garden. Something about growing a garden would make me feel responsible, self-reliant, grownup.

So on the first day of May, after the regular Speech and Debate season ended, Brad and I headed down to Lowe’s with big dreams of our own fresh produce. We found the most expert gardener in the gardening section, and I started asking her questions. I showed her my gardening book. I told her my gardening dreams.

She told me I was too late—two months too late.

“You’ll have to wait until next year,” she said. “Nothing will grow now. You should have come in March.”

I tried to explain that I knew I was late, but I really wanted a garden. Two months ago just wouldn’t have worked for me. I was ready now.

I don’t think she cared about my personal life, and maybe she didn’t care that I wasn’t going to get the garden I was dreaming about.

“Next year,” she said.

We walked out feeling depressed and defeated (actually, I think I was the only depressed one. Brad’s just a good sport and loves me even when I am emotional over little things, like gardens.). Brad saw how slumped my shoulders were and how close the tears were from falling. He told me it didn’t really matter if the expert gardener told us we couldn’t grow a garden. If we wanted to spend the money on growing—and potentially killing—a garden, then we could.

So we did. We filled our cart with soil and wood and lots of little plants, and I kind of felt like a rebel purchasing it all while she watched. Brad built a square-foot plot, and I planted my little crops. I love my little crops. I call and tell my dad about our garden’s progress and ask for advice on watering and shading.

I’ve learned two things from my garden. 1. Lowe’s experts don’t actually know everything, just most everything. True, some of the plants did die but not until after they produced something, even if the produce wasn’t County Fair worthy. And 2. I was right. Growing a garden does make me feel responsible and self-reliant and grownup. And cool. Because what gardener doesn’t feel cool?