Don't Tread On Me

My parents were able to be here with us this weekend for General Conference.  It was fabulous.

Yay, for Conference.

Yay, yay, for Grandma and Grandpa getting to spend it with us.

While they were here, I learned a little idiosyncrasy that both Grandpa and Grandson possess;

If there is a path...they will block it.

Shoes, suitcases, toys, backpacks, jackets...whatever is in their hands, will be set down, under foot.

So funny.


Chase consistently commits the same offense. My little Lego-lover leaves Legos laying right for your instep to find.  Have you ever been surprised by a Lego in your instep?  Horrible surprise.  It smarts.

One night, a couple of years ago, I ventured into his dark room to kiss the forehead of my sleeping boy before retiring for the night.  On the floor, directly in my path, right for my Gigantor feet to find, was his Christmas present Lego set.  What took him two days and several hours to assemble, took me 1.5 seconds to annihilate. Oh, the tears.  Chase may have even shed a few as well.

So, you would think that he would learn. 

 

 

I know what all of you seasoned, veteran mothers and grandmothers are all saying;

 

 

"There will come a day when you will be sad when there AREN'T Legos to step over anymore."

 

 

So, for now, I guess, I will just tread lightly.  And, after a late night stumble into the kitchen for a drink of water, I will be glad that I have a documented  picture of this Lego set. 

 

He can use it to help him rebuild it.

Stuffy Nose

Chase came home from first grade with a gourd from his teacher. 

 

I told him to put it on the porch with the rest of the veggies.

 

 

Silly boy.

How Blessed We Are

I realize that living in Utah means that there is a temple around every corner.  Almost.

 

Okay.  Not really.

 

But, we really are so blessed to have so many temples so close to us.

 

Last July, we were among the throngs of people who were able to descend on Brigham City, Utah, to watch them hoist up and place the statue of Moroni on the top of the beautiful temple they were building there. 

 

We started out far away,

 

 

and ended up a lot closer.

 

It was neat to be able to feel of the saints excitement to have a temple even closer to them.

 

We are so spoiled.

 

In August, we joined the throngs again as we had the privilege of being able to go inside the temple and tour it during the open house.  Chase especially liked going inside this beautiful temple since he had been able to watch so many steps along the way at it was being built.

 

He has a great love for temples at his young age because of the significance they hold for him.  The Logan Utah temple especially.  He loves that temple dearly because of the opportunity to be sealed to his family there. He loves being part of a forever family and is genuinely (and sweetly) concerned when he finds out that one of his friends hasn't had the opportunity to be sealed yet. 

 

He is a great missionary.

 

Yesterday, we had the opportunity to attend the dedication of this temple.  There were some beautiful promises and blessings given.

 

 We have come full circle.  We realize how extremely lucky we are to have been able to participate in so many aspects of the coming of this temple.

 

Probably a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

 

Even here in Utah.

Speak Up, Sonny

I really think I have a hearing problem.

 

Seriously.

 

I find myself cocking my head to one side when I am really trying to hear something.  I have to turn the TV up to an obnoxious level to not miss a word.  But most sadly, I cannot hear my 8 year old.

 

Sigh.

 

His voice is at frequency level I just cannot pick up.  If there even is such a thing.  That child talks, and I hear

 

"whawha  wha whawhawha whawha"

 

So sad.

 

 

"Mom, can I have a cookie?"

 

I hear,  "Mom, please dance with the Wookie"

 

"I can't find my shoe"

 

I hear, " You're standing in goo"

 

You get the idea.

 

I finally had to explain to my favorite son, if you want me to hear you, you gotta come and talk right to my face. 

 

He suggested I go get my hearing checked.

 

That night, we were downstairs watching our weekend's worth of college football games when Jeff ran upstairs to refill his water cup.  I turned and hollered past Chase, asking Jeff since he was upstairs, would he grab me a drink, please.

 

Chase, dramatically rubbed his ear, and said, seriously,

 

"Well, at least you have no problem talking."

 

Thanks for your heart-felt concern, Bub. 

Brown Noser

Here is another journal entry, from May 2007

 

 

 

"Walking into a restaurant, on the way to being seated, Chase smashed his nose up against my bum and said,

 

'Mom! You've got something stuck to your bootie!'"

 

Funny, funny kid!

The Magic Windowsill

 

 

About five years ago, Chase was going through a major fruit loving phase.  So, I found myself in the grocery produce section perusing the fruit selection. Bananas, apples, strawberries...those were the obvious.  Pretty much tasty, no matter what. I admired, however, people that ventured out, feeling brave enough to eat fresh-from-the-store peaches and and pears.  Chase would wolf down Grandma's bottle peaches and pears.  But fresh?  They were always rock hard, and flavorless.

 

While wishfully staring at a selection of pears, I eaves dropped on an adorable elderly couple, happily choosing solid green ones that were hard enough to shatter a windshield.

 

Since I am apparently not shy, I unabashedly asked them how in the heck they ate such firm pears...and enjoyed it.

 

 They told me to put them in my windowsill.

 

I think I heard a chorus of angels singing softly over my shoulder.

 

From then on, everything and anything has found it's way to my windowsill.  There is nothing my windowsill can't ripen.  Including dry, mealy, flavorless tomatoes that we are forced to eat from grocery stores when our gardens are under snow.  I can ALMOST get them to taste off-the-vine.

 

Almost.

 

I am sure that I am slower than most.  I am betting that I was the last person that received the memo on how to ripen hard-as-a-rock produce.  If you already knew this trick, well, good for you.  If you didn't, well, there you go.

 

Enjoy.

 

Maybe for my next trick, I will tell you where the source of the smell comes from in your bathroom, if you are raising boys.

 

It's a good one.

 

Unless you already knew that one, too.

Come Sail With Me

Cute little journal entry from July 2007, at three and a half

 

 

"While boating with Uncle Kirk and Aunt Heather for the first time, he was getting more and more nervous as the boat was speeding up.  As the boat started bouncing on the swells, Chase finally announced,

 

'Uh, I just don't think this is a good place for me!'

 

 

I'm sorry.  I just think this kid is adorable.

 

Socially Backwards

I think I am pretty behind the times.  I have no clue what is going on with the people that I see everyday. And, I am ALWAYS missing the memo.


I don't have a "Facebook" account.  I have never "tweeted".

"FaceTime" is what a give my son when I volunteer in his classroom.

The last thing I "pinned" were my jeans, that are missing a button.

My favorite "apps" are chips and salsa, served with a good football game.

I still lightly lick my finger to turn the page of a good book.

I DO know how text, however.  But fair warning; a conversation that requires more than two responses from me will result in a phone call.

I need a translator when talking to the teenagers at church.

I occasionally blog, and frequently stalk blogs.

I do know how to email.  And use a cell phone.

I have Google bookmarked.


Huh, I guess I have a few redeeming qualities after all!


I just sincerely hope that my girlfriend across the street truly knows how much I like her, even though I don't "like" her.

Here's To You, Mary Lou

I have been thinking a lot about my aunt, Mary Lou, for a while now.  She was an amazing lady. 

 

Seriously.

 

She was one of those people you couldn't get enough of.  She was so good, and made you want to be good.  She was so sweet, and nice.

 

All the time.

 

This is one time that a blanket statement actually works.

 

All the time.

 

When asked how she was able to  maintain such a demeanor all of the time, she simply stated that she tried to always act like there was a camera on her, at all times.

 

Pretty simple explanation from such an extraordinary woman.

 

I have always wished that I was more like her.  I would have a long way to go just to be in the same arena with her.  She truly was amazing.

 

About a year ago, Jeff and I went to some friend's house for dinner.  They had invited other friends to their home as well.  Upon arrival, I noticed that the wife of the other friend invited was a plain, ordinary looking woman.  She was under dressed.  My fleeting thought (and this is horrible) was that she would not be someone that I was going to remember as remarkable, or anything.

 

As soon as she opened her mouth, I was proven wrong.

 

As we were being introduced, she shook my hand firmly, looked me square in the eyes, and said sincerely,

 

"You are so beautiful.  What a stunning woman you are."

 

I wanted to hug her.  I AM pretty sure that I followed her around for the rest of the evening, hanging anxiously on every word that she uttered. In one moment, I found myself wishing that I was more like this woman that I had only moments ago thought so unremarkable.

 

What a talent these women possess.  How would it be to have seemingly mastered the ability to be so Christ-like to everyone you meet. I mean, seriously.

 

I have a LONG way to go, Baby!

 

I would like to think that I have grown up some, since being a little girl.  I would even like to think that I have gained a certain amount of wisdom, and even more of an ability to become more like these women.  I have also, and unfortunately, become a little cynical and pessimistic.  It has been my experience that if someone can shaft you, they will. If someone can be dishonest, they will.

 

Mean people stink.

 

I digress.

 

So, here's to you, Mary Lou, and the other woman whose name I can't remember.  Thank you for showing me a higher road.  Thank you for showing me that no matter and what, and with no matter who...there is a better way. The world is a more beautiful place because of women like you.

 

We are truly lucky that people like you get to live with people like us.

 



Leggo My Soft Drink

A few weeks ago, I found a little journal that I started keeping for Chase when he was three.  He was keeping us in stitches with his sense of humor.  Still does.

 

Chase and I got some serious giggles today as we read through this journal.  I am soooo glad that I wrote these things down.  They are priceless.

 

Here is one of his funnies from when he was four years old...

 

 

 

We grabbed Daddy from work one day and went to lunch.  Chase got a root beer, Dad got his soda addiction, I got a lemonade.  As Chase was concentrating on coloring something while waiting for food, I took a sip of my lemonade.  Since his full attention had not been on guarding his beloved drink, Chase panicked...

 

"Did you just drink my root beer, Mom?"

 

I assured him that never in a million years would I dare stoop to a stunt so low as to swipe a sip from his soda.  Then, I proceeded to educate him on the handy little lids that they put on the top of drink cups, helping us to distinguish whose is whose.

 

..."and see?  Yours says RB, for root beer."

 

"No, Mom, that actually says 'Please do not drink the child's drink'".

 

Teeheeeheee

Playin' the Foos-ball

We are kind of nutty about football.  We kind of freak when football season comes along.

 

So, needless to say, we were slightly more than thrilled when Chase announced to us last Spring that he would like to try his hand at football.

 

 

It is against some rule of all things manly to say that he looked ADORABLE in full uniform?

 

His coach took one look at him, and drooled.  At only 7 1/2, and big for his age, Chase looked ready to take down a whole team, with a single stare.

 

Let's just put it this way.  At the end of the season award ceremony, he won the

 

Gentle Giant Award. 

 

There is so much about that that seriously cracks me up.  Outside of football, he would wrestle anyone to the ground, just 'cause he could.  He couldn't walk past anyone without feeling the need to rough them up. He is all boy!

 

Put a helmet and pads on, he suddenly would feel the need to act more genteel. 

 

So funny.

 

His coach was sooooo wonderful, and patient with him.  He would rough him up, push his buttons, ruffle his feathers...whatever it took to get him rough up the quarterback.  He played left tackle on defense.  Halfway through the season, things really started to click with him.  He kept his eye on the ball, and the quarterback at all times.  He got seriously good at getting in and messing up the offensive play.  He even managed to get a sack under his belt.

 

We cheered.

 

It was so fun to be a part of this football family.  We had an amazing group of parents and coaches.  We had such a good football season, at practices and games.  It didn't hurt matters much that our fabulous team ended the season undefeated.

 

We cheered, again.

 

We were a little sad when there was nothing that could be said or done to get him to go out for football again this season. 

 

His coach was pretty bummed, too. 

 

Oh, well.  It was AWESOME while it lasted!!

Chicken 101

I am not an animal person.  At all.

 

However, I have a son that thinks it's a travesty not to have a pet.  So, we try.

 

We bought six adorable fuzzballs in March and decided to give it a go.  We don't know much about being chicken farmers.  But here in our neighborhood, we have a surprising amount of seasoned chicken-ers that have helped us get the hang of things.

 

 

One of the first things we were told?  Do not name the chicks.  It makes it a whole lot harder to visualize eating them when the dinner on your plate has a name, and used to roam your backyard.

 

Popper, Twitch, Siren, Fuzzy, Mipsy and Foghorn have sure been fun for Chase.  We have actually really enjoyed having them.

 

 

 

We were told that the more you hold them when they are tiny, the less they will be afraid of people.

 

 

 

 



 

We were pretty sure that we had purchased six of the dumbest chickens on earth.  They learned quickly how to get up the ramp of their new home, but couldn't seem to get themselves down.  They would stay in there all day, in the blaring heat.  I was sure, every day, that we would have some fried chicken. Thankfully, they got it eventually.

 

I really do think that chickens are smarter than we think.  I think it's all part of the act, so we continue to expect less of them.  I have appreciated the fact that they have stopped laying eggs in the sandbox, and Jeff's smoker.

 

Anyway, it's been fun.  Chase takes his responsibilities with them very seriously.  He feeds and waters them, cleans their coop, and collects their eggs(about two dozen a week).  He sells the eggs, and gets to keep the profits. He really, really likes his chickens. 

 

It's a good thing, I guess.  They are apparently here to stay.

 

Forever.

Happiness Is...

...a weekend to get away with your family...

 

 

...a campout without having to pitch a tent, or hook up a trailer, and a smiley boy who loves camping anyway you do it...

 

...a boy and his silly dad,  a pocket knife, a stick to whittle, a big bowl full of Muddy Buddies...

 

...traveling light...and the Cougars...

 

...chillin' red-neck style...

 

...snuggling with your sweetie, with that as your view...

 

...the coming of the fall colors...

 

...a boy playing in the dirt, while wearing clothes bright enough to be seen by a space station, and trying to wrap his poor brain around the fire restriction...

 

...being out of cell phone range, with a plug-in for movie night, and big bowl full of Muddy Buddies...

 

...milk that stayed cold in your lunch box cooler, even though it looked more like a scoop of ice cream, and froze your lips...

 

...clothes so comfy that you can camp in them, sleep in them, then camp in them some more...

 

...a cute boy that got up early, went down by the river, and fished...

 

 

...a canyon so fabulous, you can stop and fish all along the way home.

 

Oh, yeah.  This was MY kind of camping! :)

Just In Case...

 

...you thought (all two people who may or may not read this blog, I mean) I was loosing major mommy points for making my son clean his room on the last two days of summer...

 

I did ask him if there was any treat on earth that I could make for him to bring on the new school year, what would it be.  The world was his oyster...as long as I had the ingredients on hand.

 

He chose lemon cupcakes.  This kid has a soft spot in his heart for lemon flavor.

 

 

So, lemon cupcakes he received.  Hmmmm, fresh lemon cupcakes. They were delish. So stinkin' rich, but so very scrumptious.

 

 

He snarfed one pretty quick.  I love this picture of him trying to keep his bulging mouthful at bay as he smiled, I mean smirked, at the camera.

 

You're welcome, kiddo.

The End Is Here

I don't know who was more sad about saying goodbye to summer; the boy, or his parents.

 

After a beautiful father's blessing, full of encouragement and great counsel, Jeff and I got all verklempt as we got ready to say goodbye to our buddy for another school year.  I seem to need to take a few minutes to adjust to the thought of school being out for the summer.  Then, I have a hard time letting him go back when it's over.

 

I am very much a "don't move my cheese" kind of person.

 

 

So handsome.  A third grader.  Really? 

 

Last year, I started taking his school picture in front of our front door so that we could see his growth from year to year.  He has grown 3 inches since last year.  What the...!

 

For the first time since kindergarten, Chase has a young, enthusiastic teacher.  He is quite excited about his year ahead with Mrs. Frandsen. He thinks she is pretty great. I asked him if he thought she was pretty.  He said,

 

Uh, sure.

 

He soooo doesn't speak that language yet.

 

So, here's goodbye to a great summer, and hello to another school year. It's going to be a great year.  I am so proud of you, Chase!

 

Go get 'em, Tiger!

Not My Type

Two days before school started last week, I got a little antsy.  I mean I got a LOT antsy.  Chase's room was making my hair stand on end. Seriously.  Since that child seems to be a tornado, when his room is in chaos, our whole house seems to follow suit.

 

I am not sure what the starting of school had to do with the cleaning of his room.  But for some weird reason, I couldn't stand the thought of him entering the third grade with his room in such disarray.

 

Whatever.

 

I forgot to take a before picture; before the 4 bags of trash, before the filled bag of DI donations, the box of misplaced household items, the shampooed carpet...

 

 My child is a S-E-R-I-O-U-S WALL-E.  His favorite words to live by:

 

"One man's trash is another man's treasure"

 

And live by them he does.

 

I do happen to have a picture that I took of his room last year for a school assignment.  This is pretty close to how bad his room was before our two day odyssey.  I know it just shouldn't seem possible, but it actually was WORSE than this picture: 

 

 

 

Funny thing about this messy picture.  He came home last fall, in the second grade, with an assignment to bring back something from his house that described one of the words on his weekly vocabulary list.

 

He chose the word "disaster".

 

So, after 4 hours of organizing, rearranging, discarding, tear-shedding (from boy and from mom), dusting, vacuuming, shampooing...

 

We have this:

 

 

Ahhhhh.  Soooooo fabulous.

That night at bedtime, Chase, after having walked in and out of his newly cleaned pad several times that day, exclaimed:

"Arghhhh!  This room is too clean for my type!"

Apparently, I have converted him somewhat.  A week later, it still looks that same.

Suh-weeeeet!

Why I Haven't Been Blogging...

and cleaning...

and cooking...

and weeding...

and socializing...

and sleeping...


https://familysearch.org/volunteer/indexing


I am seriously, and I mean SERIOUSLY hooked. I have done 5,200 names in less than three weeks.

Seriously.

Someone getted me hooked up with Indexers Anonymous.



I need an intervention.

A Hard Day's Night

This morning, I woke up to Chase putting together a puzzle of the United States. I sat down to join him and asked him how his night was. He gave me quite a dramatic play by play of his eventful night:

"Well, I woke up at 12:30 and had to go pooh. I went back to bed and woke up at 3:00 and had to go pooh. Then I woke up at 7:00 and had to go pooh. Then I thought, 'I might as well stay up and play, in case I have to go pooh again', so I stayed up and played."

"Wow. That's quite a night. You are going to be good and tired by tonight."

"Yeah, and pooped."



Teeheeheeheehee

Seriously? Seriously!

Not often does my extreme BLUE personality (feels deeply with an extra need to be understood) have a run in with my son's extreme YELLOW personality (the need to find the fun and the party in everything). I have enough of a yellow streak in me that I can find the party well enough to hang with the YELLOWS.

Yesterday, I was not so sure.

After school, Chase and I were doing the whole after school routine and were looking over his newly checked out library books. The one on the Titanic opened up this dialogue:

Oh, good choice, Chase! This next month marks the 100th anniversary of the sinking of the Titanic.

Really?! When?!

I think it's on the 14th of April.

Are we going to have a party?!!

Well, no. This is not really the type of occaision that sparks a huge need to have a party or anything. It is just more of an neat opportunity to remember what happened.

No, I don't mean a BIG party. I could just invite a couple of friends and we could...bob for apples...or something.





Seriously?

Seriously!


* Folks, let's do remember that he is only 8 years old. Morbid and inappropriate are not part of his personality yet. Just the need to be extremely creative and find the fun in everything. While his sometimes-wise mother finds his humor to be very humorous, she also felt the need to show him the appropriate amount of respect surrounding this event. She is, after all, a very BLUE mother raising a very YELLOW boy.

Which is why she felt the need to give this extra explanation.

It never stops.

Look!

Look, Melanie! I took pictures of my food! Aren't you proud?



I only took a picture of these eggs to document my fabulous and frivilous time-waster. They were a lot of work and tasted the same as any other old egg. Won't be doing them again, but at least got a picture to show that I did.

Oh, and I also took a picture of this.

He is being a rebel with his hair. He wants to leave it long.

I want to cringe.

Still cute...even with a porcupine sitting on his head.

Mountain Out of a Mole Hill

I have inherited many a great quality from my family tree. One of them being moles. And lots of them. I can't panic about moles 'cause I'd have an ulcer. So, I have resigned myself to the obvious...make sure they are all behaving themselves, not growing, changing...and definitely...no new ones.

Well, I found a new one.

Before gracing the sweet girls at our bank with my early, early visit, I decided to make myself a little less scary and put on some make-up. As I sat applying my face while belting out to some Little Texas, I saw a speck out of the corner of my eye.

There was a new mole on my ear.

Gulp.

I have to admit, it made my heart skip a beat. I reached up to rub my ear in investigation of this new found speck.

It smeared.

Apparently, some of the Muddy Buddys that I had snuck for breakfast found their way to my ear lobe.

I {heart} my chocolate mole.



What will you let make your day today? ;)

It's Great To Be Eight

Eight random things I love about this 8-year old:


I love his hands. There is something adorable about his hands; the way they move, the way he expresses himself with them.

I love that he still holds my hand...in public. His principal was agog when he caught Chase not only holding my hand...in the cafeteria, but also sending me off with a kiss and an "I love you"...in front of his friends. The principal told me to cherish that. I do.

I love that he his named after his Grandpa Glenn. I really, REALLY love that.

I love that this boy watched nearly all of the Harry Potter movies, scary parts and all, without even flinching. The only time he covered his face with a blanket? The kissing parts. LOVE that!

I love how you catch him making a crooked "yikes" face when reading family scriptures and he has to say a "bad" word.

I love how he is a perfectly, down-the-middle, fifty-fifty, Even-Steven split between his dad and I. So far, that makes him a shy, Lego-loving, tool-toting, snoring, football-loving carnivore, perfectly blended with the crafty, goofy, outgoing, dramatic, holiday tradition observing extraordinaire, with a pretty great sense of humor. Sounds pretty fabulous...right?

I love to hear him pray. If you have ever heard him pray, you know what I mean.

I love it when he giggles. It seems especially cute when it is done at a most inappropriate time. Darn it.

I love that he is a rule follower. He takes doing what is right pretty seriously...most of the time. Let's be honest. He is a kid. And a boy. 'Nuff said.

I love that there are so many things to love about this boy that I can't stop at eight. There is just too much to love about him. But, most especially, I love that he is MY boy.

I SERIOUSLY love that.