A contest for the creative

Hey internets,

As many of you know, my nine-year-old son, McKay, has his own blog (yes, we are all about the blogging in our family). He is having a little contest over at his blog. Pop on over there and give it your best shot. The winner will receive an autographed baseball card of none other than McKay himself. These are rare cards, my friends, and are sure to be worth millions one day. All you have to do is use your creative noggin to come up with a name for a photo he's posted. Let's see what you've got!

He came up with this idea on his own after listening to me tell Josh about this contest. Go give it a whirl. All the comments will just totally make his day.

I gotta gets me one of these new fangled phone thingies

I have been unintentionally ignoring my blog this week due to a fuller-than-I'd-like schedule. Thought this might make up for the lack of posting. I got it from my brother Andrew, and thought it was absolutely hilarious. Enjoy.

Let's take a vote on Durga Kameneini...

Okay, internets, I need your help.

You may recall a few of the annoyances that have come as a result of our cross-country move. Like this, or this, or even this. But my newest disaster takes the cake (and those of you who find my problems about as interesting as what's growing under your toenails, feel free to click off right now to someplace more intellectually stimulating, like this).

Like the good, responsible person that I am, I spent hours (in California) calling to hook up utilities, phone, internet, garbage, sewer, etc., assuming I knew what I was doing. It wasn't until AFTER I had spent all these hours that I learned of the unacceptability of DSL internet for The Husband. I mean, if we can't get those BYU Cougar Podcasts as fast as technology will allow, it is reason for life not to go on.

But because I do love The Husband, I made another round of phone calls and switched us back to cable internet. In doing so, I had to switch our phone service as well because of the package deal they had. The only problem was that we would not be able to keep that phone number. But since we hadn't really given it to too many people and weren't moving for a few months, we didn't think it was a big deal.

Still with me? Hang in there. Especially you, Daniel.

So we move here. I move in, begin living my life, and start calling people. I notice that I am getting a lot of voicemails and answering machines when I call, but I don't think too much about it. I'm new and friendless, after all, and people are busy. With all their many friends and such.

But then one day my mother-in-law accidentally answers my call and tells me the name Durga Kameneini is coming up on her caller-ID. Which is why she (and everyone else I know) do not answer when I call.

After FOUR aggravating, hour-long phone calls, the phone company and I have come to an impasse. They cannot fix the problem. They do not know why Durga Kameneini shows up every time I call someone. They have essentially shrugged their shoulders at me and bid me good luck.

Which resulted in much yelling (by me) on the phone (to them). I am now left with three options.

Option one is to change phone numbers , which I am loathe to do given that all our family, friends, and church congregation have our current number. It's on all the school paperwork, ballet classes, and swimming lesson forms. And when you introduce a new number? Then suddenly people aren't sure which number is right. They might call the wrong one. Maybe they never got the word that you have a new one. Kids suddenly don't get picked up when they fall and have broken legs (yes, that is exactly what I see happening. Stupid, I know).

Option two is to switch to a "blocked call" status. Which would mean that when we call anyone, our number is blocked and shows up as "anonymous" on caller-ID. You know, just like the salesman that call at dinnertime or the surveys that ring at seven o'clock in the morning. Which you never answer because you know it's not anybody important. We'd be sharing THAT status. It's not the worst choice necessarily, but when we call someone who has anonymous call rejection (my parents, for one), we will not be able to get through. At all. Ever. Our current company doesn't have a fancy star-number-number we can dial to be able to get through (I asked). Our calls are eternally blocked to these numbers.

The third option is to do nothing. I can leave it as-is, and accept that I am Durga Kameneini when I call people. I can almost always guarantee that every time I make a phone call I'll get someone's voicemail. I mean, even my own mother-in-law doesn't answer for Durga. And do I blame her? Sure, I can explain the situation to everyone I know, but I still dislike having to face that embarrassment and explanation when I call someone that DOESN'T know. And if it was a remotely common name, I probably wouldn't care. But Durga Kameneini? COME ON!

Do you see my dilemma? What would you do? Leave me a little comment with your vote. I don't know what to do. I leave my fate in your hands. Help!

People who live in glass houses...

We were sitting in church yesterday, listening to the opening prayer, and I hear this beeping noise. Thinking the owner of the beep would hurry and turn it off, I sat there for a few minutes, still concentrating. I look over to see The Husband staring at me, his eyes telling me to do something. What could I do? Then I start to feel annoyed at this person thinking, Just turn it off, you idiot! How rude.

Well, I am that rude idiot.

It was my running watch that I tucked in my bag so I could keep an eye on the time when I taught my lesson (I was substituting for the Relief Society teacher). The alarm went off (for reasons still unknown to me) and kept going for several minutes. I reach down and pull the watch out of my bag so I can turn it off. Unfortunately, the bag was muffling the sound quite a bit. The beep!beep!beep! was extremely loud now and causing several heads to turn in my direction.

Finally, I was able to figure out how to shut the stupid thing off, but not before drawing a significant amount of attention.

Lesson learned: Don't judge another man's beep until you've walked a mile with his stop watch.

Things I learned this week

• A good pediatrician is worth his weight in gold.
• The best thing about moving to Missouri is not having to take a written test to get a driver's license. (Those tests literally give me panic attacks. I'm not kidding.)
• When Hannah has two loose teeth that are barely hanging on by a thread, only the Husband will be allowed to touch them or pull them out. (no complaints here)
• It is a lucky thing, indeed, for a mama to sit bolt upright in bed in the middle of the night and remember that the tooth fairy needs to make a visit.
• When the temperature cools down to a chilly 92 degrees, you really can feel the difference.
• There are some things that just won't turn up after a move. Important things like cancelled license plate receipts from other states who are insisting you pay them taxes for vehicles no longer registered there.
• The husband will invariably get the blame for said lost receipts.
• Meeting new friends at a Bunko night warms my lonely little heart.
• You should not start the Twilight series unless you have three days to plow through them. Because you WILL NOT be able to stop once you start. And there will be children begging for trifles like food and clean laundry.
• You should always have a trip to look forward to (NYC in six weeks - yay!).
• It should never be a surprise to wear out a blow dryer when you spend 20 minutes a day using it to burn your hair into submission.
• It IS an annoying surprise every time.

True Love

I have found a new man. And I love him. There is none like him anywhere else.

Right after we moved here, Hannah came down with a 104 fever, sore throat, and a stomach ache. Classic strep, right? I had not researched a pediatrician yet, and so I was left to scour the insurance company's website to find one that was close.

If only I had known just how lucky I was that day I'd have gone to Vegas and bet the farm.

We made ourselves an appointment with Dr. Cheng. He was a round, bubbly, middle-aged pediatrician who seemed very intent on getting my daughter well. Unlike THESE stupid doctors that wanted us to audition for their precious skills and knowledge (I'm working on not being bitter, can you tell?).

While we were seeing Dr. Cheng, I mentioned that I was needing to have my kids' immunizations on Missouri state forms for the school. He said it might be difficult to get them all appointments at the same time, but that he was more than willing to come in early or stay late to accommodate us.

Yes, you just read that right. He was going to accommodate us. And he did. He came in early so the kids could all be seen at the same appointment.

Later that night, still reveling in the quality of care we had received, the phone rings. Who is it? It's Dr. Cheng. Not his nurse. Not his receptionist. Him. Wanting to know if Hannah's fever was down.

I've never had a doctor follow up like that. I was shocked and thrilled at our new find.

Fast forward to yesterday. Chase and McKay both came down with the flu this weekend. Chase had it much worse, and McKay was feeling a lot better by Sunday night. By Monday morning, I was starting to worry that Chase was getting dehydrated. His lips were all dry. He had not peed in two days. I could not get him to hold any liquid down for more than ten minutes. So in to see Dr. Cheng we went.

He was immediately concerned. Sat by our bedside in the clinic for 45 minutes - trying anything he could to get Chase to eat or drink and be able to keep it down (because the next step was an IV at the hospital, and he - being the perfect man that he is - was trying to avoid that for my sake). He did get Chase to finish a popsicle (sitting by his side, tenderly holding the popsicle for Chase), but it came right back up before we even got to the elevator. In a last-ditch effort to avoid spending eight hours in the ER, he gave me a prescription for an anti-nausea medication and said to call him that night if Chase threw up after taking it.

Call him. Which means he actually gave me his personal beeper number. Not the answering service. Not the office number. His.

You see why I'm in love?

And then I got a phone call last night AND this morning from the good doctor himself, just checking to see how Chase was feeling. The medication had done the trick and Chase is back to his old self today (albeit a little weak and pale, but functioning nonetheless).

In my almost ten years of pediatric practice experience, I have NEVER seen a more attentive, thorough, and kind doctor. I'm used the ones that are polite enough, but in and out - leaving the nurse to do most of the legwork. The Husband is incredulous. He cannot believe it either. The annoying health care consultant in him remarked at the inefficiency of such a clinician. Maybe, but I don't care. I have now pledged my deep and undying love for Dr. Cheng.

So much so that Hannah eyed me suspiciously at dinner last night and asked, "Are you in love wiff our doctor, Mama?"

Yes, baby, I am. Not because he's handsome or dashing. Because he is as concerned about my babies as I am. And once you find something that good, you never, ever give it up.

Breaking up is hard to do

The pink counters and I have finally ended our tumultuous relationship. It was a rocky break-up when all was said and done. It didn't end well for our friend Pink. Much as I wanted to make Hannah's fondest dreams come true, there was a deeper need that had to be met. My need to not want to poke out my eyeballs every time I walked into the kitchen.

So here is one last, fond farewell for the pink kitchen that never stood a chance. May you rest in peace.

(This one is what it looked like before we bought it. Like the lovely green linoleum, the bold mauve on the walls, and way too much crap spilling out all over the place? Didn't think so. Neither did I.)

And here is my new baby. Hello, gorgeous.

Baby steps

Well, our first day was a roaring success. I am a little delayed in posting about it due to a huge power surge that stole my internet connection for the last 24 hours. Oh, the joys of these crazy Midwest storms.

Anyhoo, the morning began early. The kids were up at the crack of dawn, dressed in their new school clothes, eager and nervous all at once. Breakfast was hastily consumed and backpacks were packed. Then we sat and waited until it was time to go.
The boys have been a little bit anxious, but seemed not to show it. They stormed up to the bus and got right on, eager for the familiar routine of school and friends. They've done this before - most recently just a year ago - and they know what it takes to make new friends. McKay seemed mildly embarrassed that we were all at the bus stop, while Chase fiercely hugged me before getting on the bus. They were off. My big boys beginning another year. Taking another step towards the rest of their lives.

Hannah, on the other hand, had to wait a bit. She is in afternoon kindergarten every day, except on Fridays when she will go all day. It was sheer torture to watch her face betray the envy she felt for the boys getting on the bus without her.

She put on a good front (as we girls are known to do) and waved them off with hearty enthusiasm.

Then she resumed a lonely perch at the front window for the next three-and-a-half hours. During which time, she went through various stages of emotion; anger, despair, longing, joy, and sorrow, all of which induced a lot of tears. She insisted that the bus had forgotten all about her, and no amount of logic could convince her that her time would come soon.

She waited and waited. And cried and pleaded. And pouted and cried. And waited some more.

Then finally it was time to brave the 346-degree heat to wait for the bus. I think in her little heart, she actually doubted that her turn would really even come.

But oh, joy! It finally came! And she didn't look back once. Just got on that bus like a big girl that doesn't need her mama anymore. Gone was the baby girl, dressed in her black turtlenecks and brown gingham dresses. Gone was the teeny baby with bird-like legs that clung to me as though she were an extra appendage. Gone was the toddler who carried around 18 bunnies at once and smiled a gap-toothed smile that melted my heart. Gone in an instant. Replaced by this person who suddenly thinks she is grown up and independent enough to take some very big steps out on her own.

And she is. I was sad for a bit as I watched that yellow bus drive away from me, knowing that it took with it a piece of my baby girl that I'd never get back again.

But then...about 30 minutes later, I was actually able to walk down the glass aisles at Home Goods and not worry that I'd end up buying everything that had been broken by grabby fingers. I went through McDonald's drive-thru and got only a diet coke.

And nobody complained about it.

I went to the bookstore and browsed around for a long time before I bought this (which I CANNOT put down, btw). I hit five stores in two hours. I did this all by myself. Which means I've taken a few independent steps of my own.

And I think they look pretty darn good on all of us.

T-minus 11 hours...

I am starting to freak out. My kids will all be in school exactly 11 hours from now. I will be alone for the first time in almost ten years.

No, I am not crying, lamenting, and frantically starting my own home school, but there is a big part of me that is really going to miss having these little friends around during the day.

Which tells me exactly what I've known all along (but sometimes forget when they're doing an Irish jig on my last nerve): I really love them.

But there's an even bigger part of me that can't wait to get pedicures without the princess in tow, and being able to stand in line at Sam's Club without yelling at anyone will certainly be a treat (although I definitely make no promises on that one).

More words to come tomorrow. Stay tuned...

Hurry, hurry! It's swap time again!

Marta is hosting a fun little back to school swap. You can read all the details on her blog here. But you better hurry and sign up because today is the last day. These swaps are so much fun. You get to make a new friend somewhere in the world, and you get some good mail to boot. Don't miss out on the fun!

A million questions to match a million answers

My kids never seem to run out of questions. Rather than document their endless queries, I decided to write down some of the answers I have given this week instead. Enjoy:

• No, we cannot have any weapons at the table.
• Just because I do not like the pink counters, does not mean that I do not like you. I love you.
• Yes, you will need sunscreen.
• Yes, you will also need to wear your swimsuit.
• No, Daddy will have to kill that big spider. It's his job as a man.
• If I must choose, I would rather eat sand than dead bugs.
• No, we are not having M&Ms with our breakfast.
• Yes, I will pay you to kill the spider since Daddy is such a wimp.
• Yes, I did mail the letter.
• No, sorry, there's nothing from George Bush today.
• No, I don't know about poisonous frogs.
• Yes, you can have a snack.
• No, you cannot have candy for your snack.
• Why, yes, I love your questions.
• Just a minute, I'm going to the bathroom!
• No, you cannot come in and ask me.
• No! No! No!
• I'm was not alive on D-Day.
• Nope, neither was Grandpa or Opa.
• No, the onions are not poisonous.
• No, you are not allergic to onions.
• Yes, you can just pick out the onions.
• No, I don't know what time Daddy is coming home today.
• Yes, I'll read you ONE MORE story, but that is it.
• Yes, I love you, too.
• No, there are no witches in your closet. See?
• No, you cannot set your alarm for 4:30 a.m., sorry.
  

Please play along

So I found this fun idea on Boo Mama's blog. The idea is this: Write two blurbs for your alumni newsletter, updating your life. The first version is the perky, show-off kind that everyone writes (and the one that everyone hates). The second should be the darker, more real side of honest. Here's mine:

Version One:

Christie married Josh over 13 years ago. She worked as a Medical Practice Manager for several prestigious medical firms before making the tough choice to leave her career behind and become a mother. Christie and Josh now have three beautiful children that are a constant source of joy and enlightenment. Josh has recently made a career change which provides him the opportunity to expand his firm nationally. Christie selflessly devotes hours of volunteer work to local community and church organizations. Her dedication to the arts is incomparable. Christie is an avid athlete and an extremely dedicated runner. Christie and Josh now make their home in Missouri, where they are already well-established within society circles.

Okay. Version Two:

Christie married Josh over 13 years ago, although sometimes it feels like much longer. She spent her "career" as a peon being bossed around by mean, snotty doctors for slave wages, while Josh attended undergraduate and graduate school. Christie's meager salary barely covered their living expenses during this time. She was miserable and counted the seconds until she was able to quit and stay home to have babies. Christie and Josh have three beautiful children that are a constant source of joy (and energy, and annoyance, and expenses, and umpteen trips to the doctor's office for strep throat and/or ear infections). Christie is thrilled to be a stay-at-home mom, but is now proudly counting the minutes until they will all be in school (10,080, to be precise) as she has not had a day to herself since she can't remember when.

Josh spends his days traveling to hospitals around the country, staying at five-star hotels, and eating in only the finest restaurants.

Christie tries extremely hard to not punish him for this.

Christie also finds her precious free minutes sapped up by play dates, church, school volunteering, and cub scouts. She is an avid reader of US Weekly and People, and thinks of Britney and Lindsay's rehab stints as actual news. She will watch pretty much any movie just to keep herself entertained. She fancies herself a runner, but recently gave up training for her big race due to heat, laziness, and pancake predilection.

Christie is maniacally redecorating every room in her house. She has recently relocated to Missouri and is constantly on the prowl for any new friends she can sink her claws into. She scours blogs, and loves finding new ones to read. In short: She's a bit of a geek.

Touches of home

Our frames and mats for the photo wall in the formal living room arrived this week. Thought I'd share them with you, dear internets (and I'd like to praise the Husband's fine mathematics skills which prevented me from putting about 9,508 holes in my wall while hanging these. Yes, there actually is a good use for math. Shocking, I know.):

And here is what we have done in the dining room. The pictures on this wall are all of places we have lived. We have scoured historical society archives, stock photos, and even begged one photo off a family member (thanks, Scott!) in order to get what we wanted from each city. The center frame says, "Home," and underneath that, "is where the heart is." After six states and three countries, we are living proof of that. (And you can see it much better from a different angle - still trying to figure out what to do with that chandelier.)

And for fun, here is what I put up in the mudroom (which you walk through to go from the garage into the kitchen, so nobody will even see it but me). I found these fun vinyl letters through Tip Junkie. I am sure everyone else in the free world already knows about these, but they were quite new and exciting to me.

There's more work to be done, but little-by-little this place is starting to take shape and feel like ours. We've got the counters coming this Thursday - so expect some more photos then. I am practically counting the seconds until the pink is gone.

Happy Monday everyone!

Our favorite thing at the zoo today

To say that it was hot today is like saying that I kinda-sorta like cookie dough. BIG understatement. We did have a good time though, and I thought I'd share some great quotable moments:

McKay: "Oh, this picture is so going on my blog."

Chase: "Is it swearing if I say that the asses were really cool?" (We had just seen the donkeys for all you sickos that would go there - Daniel, that includes you!)

Hannah: "Mama, I'm just so sweaty."

Me, too, kiddo. I hate it when I start sweating. Really, I do. Maybe you could hop out of that shady stroller and give me a push up this big hill. See how you feel then, poor baby...

[I'm much more sympathetic when it's not 186 humid degrees outside. Trust me.]

A weekend with our roots

We spent this past weekend in Nauvoo, Illinois. The last time we visited Nauvoo was with Josh's parents and three of his siblings. I was about eight minutes pregnant with my first baby, and sicker than anyone really ever should be. My memories of that trip are somewhat hazy - mostly images of me throwing up on pretty much every square inch of Nauvoo (and the road we took to get there). In fact, I am quite certain that Josh's sister, Marta, will probably never want children due to her experiences in the backseat of our car on that trip (and several others that I won't mention here involving stinky diapers and desecrating national historical landmarks, ahem). Let's just say, it was not a great trip.

This time around, it was completely different. Seeing Nauvoo through my kids' eyes was like seeing it for the first time. There were so many fun things to do. We tried on the costumes. We learned how they made wagon wheels. We toured the bakery, the schoolhouse, and the printing press. We cried at the pageant. We saw the Temple. It was so serene, so peaceful to be away from the real world. The Husband was even brave enough to leave the computer and palm pilot at home (although he regretted it after the kids were asleep and he was dreaming of plasma TVs).

Were it not for the heat - GOOD GRACIOUS THE HEAT - I would never have come home. I turned to The Husband at one point during the weekend, wiped a gallon of sweat from my brow, and said, "Sheesh, it is so much hotter up here than where we are." He ever-so-coolly replied, "Um, noooo, you're just always either at the pool or inside with air conditioning. It IS this hot where we live."

He might be right.

The only other thing lacking was a decent place to eat. For lunch, we waited in line for about 50 minutes at a local bakery, only to be disappointed with wonder bread-style sandwiches. Dinner wasn't much better. Our hotel restaurant offered a giant buffet, which had my kids salivating like wild dogs, upon sight of it. It left much to be desired, trust me. I was so sick all night after that meal. I guess it's just not a trip to Nauvoo for me without a giant bottle of Tums. At least this time around, I wasn't pregnant.

All in all, some quality family time and a chance to show the kids a little bit of their history. We'll definitely be back.

Casting call for medical care

One of the biggest frustrations of moving to a new city is finding and establishing ourselves with new doctors. Although we never got fully integrated into medical care in San Diego (we didn't need much of it in a year, thank goodness), we are here for good and need to find ourselves some good doctors.

Yesterday morning I set about to research pediatric allergists for McKay. He has inherited the worst possible genetic combination - allergic asthma (from his father's side of the family), and eczema (from me). He is on three different medications to keep his asthma and allergies in check. When his allergies get out of control, his lungs don't work properly, and he gets sick.

I found a couple of pediatric allergists close by and began calling for appointments. The first Very Busy and Important Doctor could not get us until the end of November (and we'd most definitely be out of medication by then). But in case I couldn't find anything else, I went ahead and made an appointment for what might as well be ten years from now.

So I called the next pediatric allergy practice on my list. The phone was answered by a curt, stiff, angry woman (come on, you can just picture the type). She seemed literally shocked and offended that I was calling for an appointment. I mean, she probably had to put down her coffee and donut to answer the phone and everything. She informed me that Her Doctors only see patients if they are referred by another doctor. I politely informed her that we do not need a referral from our insurance company, we have already been established with pediatric allergists in the past, and we'd simply like an appointment. She huffily informed me that The Preshus Doctors would have to see my son's medical records first, and then decide if they would take him on as a patient. Oh, I'm sorry. Silly me, I didn't realize we had to audition for the role of patient. I simply assumed that a little thing called the Hippocratic Oath entitled us to an audition-free appointment. I mean, isn't it supposed to be the other way around? Aren't I the one who gets to decide if you are worthy enough to treat ME? And what - if my son isn't sick or interesting enough, will you not take the case?

I was so angry, but still not wanting to let McKay go essentially until December without any medication. In desperation, I whined to my own personal health care consultant - The Husband. He listened patiently (get it, ha ha) to my tale of woe and his comment to me was, "Why don't you just try Children's Hospital?"

Oh, the one downtown that seems far away and inconvenient? "Yes," he says, "With stuff like this, you don't mess around with suburban doctors. Go straight for the experts. They'll be better trained and will know what they're doing"

One short phone call later and we had an appointment in a few weeks' time. The receptionist who answered the phone was acutely aware of patients with our health history, knew just what pulmonary function tests we'd be requiring, and calmly and politely got it all scheduled for me. I was ready to jump through the phone and kiss and hug her ferociously.

So a few lessons learned today: 1) Always go with quality health care from the beginning, even if it's not necessarily close to home; and 2) admit that yes, ahem, sometimes, The Husband is right.

I quit...and will take an extra helping of crow

I'd like to officially announce that I am quitting My Marathon. I am dropping out (lame, I know), but my heart is just not in it this year. There are many reasons why I'm choosing to quit, some of which are:

1. The Move. I have been so busy repainting, dealing with contractors, unpacking, and getting acquainted with my new area that I have had little time for anything else. I still have been running, but the long runs have been weighing on my mind, occupying space that is normally concerned with important things like whether or not I should grow out my bangs or if Lindsay is ever going to stay out of jail. Let's just say that the added stress of worrying about the marathon was becoming a burden.
   
   
2. The Heat. Oh good heavens, the heat. When I ran The Marathon in 2004, I lived in Boston and trained all through the summer. Sure, there were a few days that were hot and sticky, but here? It's hot and sticky EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. I get up at five in the morning and it's already like 84 degrees with muggy, sticky, humid air sucking the life out of you. It has KILLED me to run outside. I consider myself a pretty seasoned runner, but I've never ran in heat and humidity like this. Two years ago, I could run 18 miles, come home and rehydrate, and be ready to go for the day. I did six miles here two Saturdays in a row and had to sleep for four hours in the middle of the day when I got home. I just felt physically sick after my runs, and I've always felt great afterwards.
   
   
3. The Time Factor. Truth be told, I'm feeling a little selfish with my time lately. I feel like our summer has been cut short this year and I want to enjoy every last bit of it. My kids really got gypped out of a good summer vacation, and I want to make the most of the time we've got left.
   
   
4. The Mental Game. It's just not there. Much as I'd like to fight my way across the finish line, side-by-side with my brothers (or slightly ahead of them, hee hee), I'm just not feelin' the race this year. I don't have the slightest desire to do it. Those of you that have done one know that at least 50 percent of running a marathon is mental. You have to at least want to do it. Which I just don't.
   
   
5. The Laziness. I'll call a spade a spade, my friends. I am just plain feeling lazy this year. I'd rather sleep in a little bit, get up and do a quick 40 minutes on the treadmill every day (while watching Sopranos reruns or some other first-rate TIVO'd goodie) and be done. Three hour runs on a Saturday? Yeah, just not where my heart lies this year.

So hats off, Dan and Matt, for sticking it out. I have no doubt that you'll get a much faster time without me holding you back. I'll be cheering from afar and be thinking of you every Saturday morning when I wake up at 10 and eat myself a big stack of pancakes. You're much better men than I.

Of his own accord

Clearly, Chase is one of the 26 percent...

When life hands you lemons...

The kids have been begging to have a lemonade stand. Convinced that their entrepreneurial skills would net them big bucks, they could not be contained. So I bought the lemons, a citrus juicer, and a poster for their sign. It was hilarious listening to them discuss the price point at which they would sell. Chase was adamant that they would make more money if they charged at least two dollars per glass (this is the same kid that wanted to sell his artwork on the street for 20 bucks a piece. Clearly, he targets the more affluent market). McKay felt sure that no one could afford lemonade at such a stiff price, and convinced Chase to come down to about 25 cents each (and yes, husband was so very proud of their fine economic analysis).

With price point set, signs made, lemons juiced and sugared, their business began. It was agonizing for me to watch from the house as they eagerly searched all sides of the neighborhood for a customer. When I couldn't stand it any longer, I grabbed a bunch of quarters and headed for the curb; buying, of course, one cup for about three dollars. In truth, their lemonade wasn't actually half bad.

I thanked them and went back into the house, resuming my perch of peeking through the window, praying someone would come along - thirsty and with a pocketful of quarters.

After a few more minutes without customers, I headed out again. Oh, I was just so thirsty, I told them. Could I please have another glass of this delicious drink?

Hannah was going with some friends to a farm, and pretty soon they pulled up with a van full of thirsty customers. My friend Maren kindly bought each of her girls a lemonade as we got Hannah buckled and settled in the car. Being the type of person that I am (you know, the annoying kind that doesn't like anybody to pay for them or their kids), I handed Maren some money for Hannah's admission to the farm, lunch, etc. She refused it (being the annoying type of person that I also am, you know, the one that wants to pay for things and won't accept any money from others). We did the traditional back-and-forth game of No, you take it. No, I don't need it. You take it. Just keep it.

Maren solved that problem by donating the money to the lemonade stand when I wasn't looking.

A few minutes later, the boys come tearing into the house, "Mom! Look how much money we're making! We're doing AWESOME!" (It also helped that Chase was going up and down the street asking neighbors and contractors if they were thirsty).

So if you add that extra "donation" to the lemons, citrus juicer, cups, and poster I had to buy...this lemonade stand actually cost me like $40. But hey, like they say, when life hands you lemons, you make lemonade.

Next time I'll just make sure not to buy all of it myself.

Some helpful hints for the contractor working on my basement

1. When you say that you are coming - it is a good to idea to actually come. You know, cause we're kind of paying you and all.
2. If you do not tell me you are coming, there is a good chance I will not be home when you actually do decide to stop by. See number one for questions about this.
3. If you spent as much time actually working in the basement as you do revising your invoice for us, this job might even get done before Hannah turns 23.
4. No, I will not pick up your supplies at Home Depot. Me, three kids, and a mile-long list? Not gonna happen.
5. My name is not now, nor has it ever been, "Chrissy." I do not resemble Suzanne Summers. I do not have blond pigtails. I do not live with Jack and Janet. Please do not call me that anymore. I loathe being called Chrissy. There's a big, fat T in the middle of my name for a reason.
6. When you spill a whole lot of drywall mud on the carpet, then dump a bunch of water on the carpet to rinse it out, trust me when I tell you that I will notice.
7. I do not know the difference between metal and wood studs. I do not care about the difference between metal and wood studs. Just put what needs to be put in without a 20-minute explanation for me and the children.
8. Yes, you can use the bathroom.
9. No, you do not need to ask EVERY. SINGLE. TIME.
10. When you ask to borrow my vacuum (after you have sanded off big chunks of drywall), do not be surprised that you will blow out the belt.
11. Do not sheepishly come ask me for a new vacuum belt. You shouldn't have used my vacuum in the first place. You need to bring a shop vac with you next time. You know, cause you're doing construction work and all that.
12. And finally, for the love of all that is holy, please wear a shirt when walking through my kitchen. EWW. Very big EWW.

SPECIAL GUEST BLOG (the husband's diatribe)

I, JDH, am posting this special guest blog to confront an issue that has done more to destroy the unity in our family than anything since…since…I can't think of anything of such gravity. I know this is a long post, but I feel that this issue requires a comprehensive examination to foster sufficient resolution.

BACKGROUND

I will provide a quick background for anyone who isn't familiar with the controversy. Every year, the family makes the trek to Tanner Flat (a pristine camping destination in Big Cottonwood Canyon southeast of Salt Lake City) to roast marshmallows and to celebrate yet another year of the nation's independence. Each year, after the young ones are unconscious from the over abundance of fresh air and smores, the wise "elders" of the family gather to discuss (read: intensely debate) various topics that are of consequence to our society. Luckily, since I haven't attended any of these "discussions", they are always fun and end relatively amicably.

(Author's Note: I am very suspicious about the quality and depth of the discussions since I have never actually attended to moderate and provide the truth relating to the topics discussed.)

Apparently, this year's discussion was a violent departure from tradition and has left deep emotional scars on everyone involved. The reason this year's discussion became so emotional is that the topic was of such high import to society at large and is fundamental to the ultimate survival of our family (that is the Human-Family).

The topic of which I speak is…BLOGGING: IS IT VALUABLE OR IS IT "OF MEPHISTOPHELES". I write the following comments in order to close this argument forever and restore peace in the family. I can do this because I am held in such high regard and that all matters are considered to be closed once my opinion has been articulated.


THE ARGUMENTS

The basic arguments were as follows:

• Side 1 contends that the act of blogging intrinsically provides value to the world due to the extraordinary interaction that is fostered through the medium. In fact blogging is so important that some on Side 1 believe that they "find wisdom and great treasures of knowledge, even hidden treasures". A perfect example of these hidden treasures is Migg's legal analysis of the great contributions of attorney's in his blog "Fancy IOUs".
  
• Side 2 believes that blogging is so pernicious that the result the dirty habit produces a negative contribution to society. The countless hours spent writing and posting on web logs takes away from productive pursuits that range from the mundane (curing cancer and solving the geo-political problems in the middle east) to the critical (like playing video games, planning next year's fantasy football team, or my personal favorite: watching TV).

Anyone can see how important it is to resolve this stalemate…which is again, why I have condescended to issue my guidance.

THE DEFINING OPINION: BLOGGING IS NOT OF THE DEVIL

Blogs have become the preferred medium from which complex ideas and other information is collected and disseminated. Over the course of history, personal communication has evolved from the letter to telephone conversation to email and finally to blogs.

1. Letters were/are a very effective form of communication. They allow writers to elegantly express complicated ideas and intimate feelings that are difficult to convey verbally. However, because of their enduring formality, letters are labor intensive and are often seen as impractical in the electronic age of instantaneous response.
2. Telephone conversation is extremely convenient; however, data transferred through these conversations are never formally captured and telephone conversations are always subject to the availability of participants.
3. Email provides a mechanism to capture and store transmitted information, is instantaneous, and allows interaction to occur at the convenience of the participants; however, emails may not be read or sent to the right person(s) and are often overlooked because the volume of important messages.

All these modes of communication have positive attributes, but they leave much to be desired. However, blogging is the perfect medium because it:

• Allows the writer to articulate and transfer complex ideas (like the time Stie wrote about our kids' transvestite tendencies).
  
• Allows readers to access information at convenient times;
  
• Is never forced upon unsuspecting parties (like all that Viagra spam Miggs gets at work);
  
• Facilitates the capture of interesting and valuable information that can be used by future generations to truly understand how our family produced such a large number of influential people (probably to rival the progeny the Kennedy's or the Romney's [I lived in Massachusetts and am bi-partisan]).

Also, blogging has the effect of uniting people across the world who are interested in similar topics. Marta's treatise on "theodesign" and Oma's recent rendition of Gab's influence are great examples (by the way Oma, I'm still waiting for the blog about me…I suspect that the prospect of listing of my accomplishments is just overwhelming…maybe I will hire someone to write a biography).

The binding effect of blogging is so powerful, even people who want to break free of the traditional family bonds cannot escape the loving chains of blogs.

Some will say all this effort should be directed to more productive activities. The truth is that blogs, like the letters of yesterday, will be the narrator of history.

It is my hope that everyone who likes to blog will continue to do so…and that their effort is appreciated (even by someone who doesn't even read them).

So let it be written, so let it be done.

Bored on a Sunday afternoon

We have a new brother...his name is Jack:

And meet Hannah's new sisters, McKenzie and Tiffany:

And in case you were wondering, I'll TOTALLY be blackmailing them with these pictures in about, oh, eight years or so. Because I'm just a good mother like that.

From her lips to God's ears

This morning at about 6:30, I am awakened by a gentle tugging on my shoulder. Rousing myself out of a gloriously deep sleep, I frantically search for my glasses. Once be-goggled, I look up to see Hannah, grinning from ear to ear.

"It worked, Mama. It really worked," she practically whispered.

"What worked?"

"My prayer. Last night I asked Heavenly Father to help me not to dream about the bad witch in Snow White giving me the sleeping death. And it worked! I didn't have any bad dreams."

"Oh, Hannah, I am so glad you didn't have a bad dream. See, God does answer our prayers. I'm so proud of you."

"I also prayed that we would not be silly today and that my hair would grow much longer REALLY fast."

Well...I guess one out of three ain't bad.

What I did yesterday

The master bathroom before (with my friend's cute daughter posing in front of the lovely triangle window treatments):
The master bathroom after:

*The color I picked was called Mocha Mist. It was (in my mind) much more brown, but I ended up still liking how this turned out. Think I'll keep it. Cause I'm not repainting it right now, that's for sure.

A little bit of this...a little bit of that

Some random weirdness:

1. Milk is about $4.85 PER GALLON here in the Midwest. That's right, I said per gallon. I paid less than that for two gallons in San Diego (which is the mother of all expensive cities). That means we are spending at least $20 PER WEEK on milk. Seriously. What do all of you pay for a gallon of milk? Why, what with all the free space out here, do we pay so much for milk? Could they not throw some cows in the empty fields and save us all a few dollars? Does the milk come from little precious cows eating truffle oil omelets and sipping Evian with their pinkies in the air? Please tell me there is some good reason why I am paying so much for the milk. Otherwise, the children might be asked to stop growing so their little bones don't need so much calcium. Either that I have to give up the diet coke. And that just ain't happening.
   
   
2. If I have tried to call your house in the last five days, it really is me. Not Dupgya Samenieni like the caller ID says. Hopefully the phone company got it all straightened out. That's what they tell me anyway. Sure, they have been wrong before. But like always, I believe them THIS time.
   
   
3. Whoever invented wallpaper should be tied to the nearest tree and jabbed repeatedly with a pointy stick. Or at least whoever puts it in the homes that I purchase ought to be. WHY, WHY, WHY would you put up wallpaper? I think if you have ever had to remove it, you never, ever put it up. I will have pictures coming of the master bathroom (where I removed the bedeviled wallpaper) once I get it all painted. My poor fingers are just too ragged tonight from the removal that took way more time than it should have. (And yes, I was even using the paper tiger. Ugh.)
   
   
4. We had a huge thunderstorm blow in this afternoon. It was pretty impressive. Having spent the last year living in the coastal desert where it rains like once every five years, it's been a while since I've seen rain like that. I was pretty entertained. The children were extremely frightened (which added slightly to my entertainment).
   
   
5. And have you seen THIS blog? If you haven't done so yet, get yourself right on over there and take a look at her latest recipe. I have six words for you...peach crisp with maple cream sauce. Oh my heavens. YUM.

Welcome to Del Boca Vista

So we're surviving and thriving. We discovered the town pool (which is closer to a water park, truth be told) complete with lazy river, several huge water slides, diving pools, and kiddie splash areas. It is just amazing. We have already spent several days there. A summer pass is unbelievably cheap and we have declared it our summer go-to spot. So much for not getting any more freckles this year. Sigh.

We've also begun to meet some of the neighbors. One of the huge draws for us to this neighborhood was the fact that the HOA dues cover lawn mowing and snow removal. We have since discovered that it is attractive to a lot of other people as well - people who are not necessarily in our age bracket (or that of our parents, even). We have had the parade of good, Christian women bringing us treats all weekend - everything from Jello salads to cookies to brownies to lemonade. They are all very kind, but will most likely not be calling for play dates. (Chase did offer to help our next-door neighbor Clyde fix his sprinkler. Clyde didn't jump on the chance at his expert, free labor, much to Chase's chagrin.) Nevertheless, we have met a few young families here and are still thrilled with our house.

I am proud to report that I did my first six-miler on Saturday in preparation for The Race. It went pretty well, considering how hot and humid it was. I did get me a cute new running skirt thanks to Marathon Bird and her excellent suggestion. I have to say, it is pretty awesome. I've never really liked running shorts as I've been unable to find a pair that didn't get stuck in the fat of my inner thighs and ride up (is it just me? Does anyone else find this problematic?). These running skirts stay right in place (with a little pair of built-in shorts underneath to keep things covered) and I was mighty comfortable. As comfortable as one can be running at six a.m. on a Saturday morning in heat and humidity. I'm just saying.

Anyway, that's enough rambling for now. Heading out to watch me a few TIVO'd Soprano's I've been saving, eat a brownie, and drink about a gallon of water. Happy Sunday!

Lights in the sky on the 4th of July

Just got home from watching fireworks with old friends who live here in Missouri, and made some new friends along the way. Here are some shots I took:

And on this, our nation's independence day, I am thankful for many things. Some at the top of my mind today are:

• My beautiful family.
• My camera and the cool pictures I can take with it. (I'd seriously marry it, I love it that much.)
• Fireworks and meeting new friends.
• Listening to my kids play pretend.
• Chase demanding that we all stand and say the Pledge of Allegiance (which we did).
• Water parks to cool down at on a hot, humid day (even though Hannah pointed out just how jiggly my legs are. Thanks, baby. Mama REALLY needed to hear that while wearing a bathing suit in public).
• Putting together my new scrapbooking room.
• Fireflies.
• Good running shoes.
• Watermelon and ice cream (4th of July staples).
• Love, home, and freedom.

Happy 4th everyone!

Mi casa, su casa

I'm finally unpacked enough that I can share some pics of our new house. I know you've been begging for them, so just this once, I'll indulge you.

Here is the kitchen (and due to the lovely color on the sunroom wall, there is a green tint coming in that makes everything have a kermit-like hue in this picture. It really is much less green-like). If you will notice the lovely mauve countertops are still with us. Husband has promised me they will be gone within two weeks. I believe him. Because he lives with me and knows how mean I can be when I don't get my way. Or when I have to spend any amount of time looking at anything resembling pepto bismol. We've picked out a lovely brown/tan/black speckled granite that will hopefully look really good.

Here is the dining room. The painter is coming next week to overhaul most of the house. This room will be one of those redone. Notice the cool inlay that we had the floor guys put in. We had them do hardwood around the perimeter of the room, and a carpet inlay in the middle. I really love it (we also did this in the family room).

Here is the family room. The huge white patches on the wall are the shadow left behind when Husband removed some hideously ugly built-ins that the previous owners had. I'm also going to have the mantle of the fireplace painted white.

Here is the sunroom off the kitchen/great room. Ignore the large pile of boxes in the corner. I am.

Here is the view from my kitchen window. Boy, I love the sight of these lush, thick trees. The kids have spent hours in the backyard running barefoot, eating popsicles, playing catch, and chasing squirrels. It is such a nice change of pace from the 10x10 patio square we called a backyard in San Diego.

And here is the formal living room. I spared you the lovely sight of the stenciled teddy bears and pine trees near the ceiling. I wanted to keep them, really, I did. But they just didn't go with my entire personality. So they'll be suffocating slowly under a nice coat of paint sometime next week.

So there you have it - a mini tour of Casa de Christie. We're really excited about it. Kind of nice to have a place to lay our head that is not either falling apart or bursting at the seams. Now that most of the unpacking is done, we are free to relax and enjoy our nation's independence in traditional American fashion - loads of fried chicken and watching explosions in the sky. Happy 4th, ya'll (see, I'm picking up the local lingo already!).

Favorite Things Swap

I finally got to the post office to pick up my package for the Favorite Things Swap. My partner, Beth, really sent some adorable, fun things. First off, love the headband from Anthropologie. Just so cool. And she is a very chic crafter with her ABC magnets and the great block (all of which will decorate my new scrapbook room). I can't wait. And she rounded out her favs with some yummy bread dip, some stickers, and pampering for a tired mama. I just love it. Thanks, partner. It was so great to get to know you. You are a doll.

Home, where my music's playing...home

We are here safe and sound (although my ragged, cracked hands would probably beg to differ). I am bone-tired and still keep finding things to unpack. I swear these boxes have to be mating. My mission tomorrow is to take a few shots of the house and get them posted - we'll see if I can find the time.

A few highlights of the move so far include:

• Arriving to find the floor all done and being just giddy over how well it turned out.
• Sighing with dismay at the layer of fine dust all over everything in the house (oh, the joys of remodeling).
• Spending my first night in the new house on the floor - sharing a blanket with a very adorable, very loud, snoring princess.
• Having to scoop a number-two (Hannah's) out of the main floor powder room and rush it to a working toilet (we have to get a plumber in to reinstall the toilet that the floor guys removed. They take it off, but don't put it back. Nice, huh?)
• Calling Josh about every eight minutes to see how much longer until he gets here.
• Unpacking 5,069,874 boxes and still not being done.
• Not seeing my children for hours because they are too busy recreating Lord of the Flies in the backyard.
• Having a schizophrenic dial tone. Sometimes we have one; sometimes we don't.
• Waiting hours as the genius Direct TV installer man attempts to make my t.v. work.
• Watching helplessly as said genius Direct TV installer man leaves without finishing the job.
• Calling Direct TV installers and be given yet another four-hour window in which to wait for a genius installer man to finish what earlier genius installer man did not.
• Waiting all day for the new bar stools and kitchen table to be delivered.
• Finally getting them and then grumbling because they are too tall for the bar.
• Not figuring this out until after the delivery truck has sped away.
• Having cupboards in my kitchen that are actually empty (because I finally have enough cupboard space!) as opposed to being crammed to capacity.
• Meeting the new neighbors with Chase's mohawk still rockin'. Klassy, no? It is gone tomorrow, I swear.

All in all, it's good to be home. Here in our home. It just makes me so happy.

Oh! And DCR Mom at Musings of a Housewife, nominated me for a little bloggy award while I was gone. I am flattered and thrilled to be a part! You really ought to pop over to her blog if you don't know her already. She's a keeper. Thanks, friend!