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!

So long, farewell...

Well, the truck is packed. The house will be cleaned tomorrow (not by me, hee hee). The kids are chomping at the bit to get out of Dodge. I am exhausted. Looks like we made it. See you when we get to St. Louis!

P.S. The mohawk still lives on. I have decreed that it will disappear before we go to church for the first time (nothing like a white-trash first impression). He is rockin' it though.

What happens when the husband takes your son for a haircut

Before:

After:

And so it begins...

This may be my last post here in sunny CA...I realized that these boxes won't pack themselves (unfortunate, I know). So long, San Diego. It's been a great year. One we'll never forget. In the words of Andre Gide:

"Man cannot discover new oceans unless he has the courage to lose sight of the shore."

We're quite literally leaving the shore in search of our own new oceans. Can't wait. Come meet me in St. Louis!

Overheard

Said by Hannah to McKay and Chase:

"I hope I don't get any wedgies when I go to kindeegawten this year."

Me, too, little sister. Me, too.

directions to where I am

Start in Salt Lake City on the very day that Nixon proclaims to the world, "I am not a crook." Have an older brother who keeps waiting for you to go back where you came from. Be adored by your Grandpa and have him set aside special gifts just for you. Find yourself the princess of quite a lot until that red-headed brother is born and steals your thunder. Love him in spite of this. Be immersed through your Mama in classic broadway shows such as "Seven Brides for Seven Brothers" and "Cats". Learn at an early age that you cannot sing. Sing anyway. Be the only girl in a family of four boys. Realize you can run just as fast as the boys can. Embrace your tomboyishness.

Go to kindergarten proudly with a plaid lobster on the front of your jumper. Love your bearded kindergarten teacher who makes his own banjos and guitars. Laugh a lot. Talk so much that they stick you in a special class to help less "social" kids acclimate. Fly from the swings on the playground into salty, coarse gravel. Feel the freeing wind in your hair as you run. Fall off a skateboard and scratch up your face. Run through the sprinklers in your front yard. Try not to cry when your dad goes hunting and comes home with a deer. Go camping with your family at Trial Lake. Be given a box of chocolates in fourth grade by a boy. Have sleepovers with girlfriends and spend hours whispering and giggling. Grow tall early on, and find (to your dismay), that you are taller than all the boys most of your life.

Fall down while roller skating and severely break your arm. Have the first of six surgeries on this arm. Discover how grueling physical pain can be. Spend hours climbing the tree in your Grandma's front yard, collecting the "witch nose" pods that grow there. Pick fresh vegetables from her garden and listen to her Jazz Singer record over and over. Cry the first time you hear this record after your Grandpa dies. Sleep over at the cabin with all your cousins. Dance your heart out to the Footloose soundtrack. Savor the juicy sweetness of ripe peaches. Eat hamburgers at Hires. Go home and cry when boys begin flipping back bra straps and you are caught without one. Feel very womanly the next day when you arrive at school wearing your first bra. Be a little disappointed that no one ever tries to flip yours again. Never really make peace with your many freckles. Discover your love of literature.

Go through the awful stage where your body gets ahead of the rest of you. Be called ugly and fat by mean boys, and believe it for many years. Stuff your bra. Kiss a few very awkward boys. Fight with your parents. A LOT. Slam doors. Cry more than you want to. Pour your feelings into a journal. Feel so unsure of yourself that you wonder how you'll survive. Get on an airplane for the first time right after high school. Go to Chicago and win nationals in FHA. Go to college. Like a lot of boys. Learn to begin liking yourself. Send several boys off on missions, proclaiming your devoted and undying love for each one. Live with six girls and be glad you never had any sisters. Discover that you are a runner.

Meet a smart, cute gymnast quite by accident. Date him for only six weeks before getting engaged. Find that no one around you is shocked or even surprised at the shortness of time - because it just feels so right. Marry this man early one morning, surrounded by all your friends and family. Decide you are finally old enough to no longer pretend to like roller coasters. Move for the first time in your life to Minneapolis so your husband can attend graduate school. Make new friends.

Wonder if it will ever be your turn to be a mother, and blink your eyes to find that you are one. Cherish your babies, each in their turn. Sing each one to sleep with show tunes and John Denver songs. Make chocolate chip cookies and lots of peanut butter sandwiches. Kiss them every night before you go to bed. Wish it wasn't going so fast.

Move from Minneapolis to Seattle to Boston to San Diego. Be thankful for good friends all over the country. Be preparing to move to Missouri for the man you love. Look around and realize that you lead a charmed life. Spend as many days as you can at the beach. Re-learn the painful lesson of what happens when you don't wear sunscreen. Relish the sound of your kids playing so well with each other. Know that you are loved. Take a sip of diet coke. Over the phone, tell your husband just how great your day was. Miss him a lot. Blog. Write this. Wait anxiously to read other posts like this one. You're here.

This post was inspired by my friend, Annie, and her own life roadmap. I was fortunate enough to meet Annie while we lived in Boston, and my life has been richer ever since. Now it's your turn - how do we get to you?

There are some things money can't buy. For everything else, there's aloe vera

Admission for four to Sea World: Free, thanks to our annual pass (well, I guess not free, but free today, you know...)

Refilling our Sea World cups inside the park: $1.50

Two plastic swords for the begging little boys: $6

One pink dolphin necklace for a cheeky princess: $5

Walking around all day dripping wet as Shamu's salt water slowly erodes my sunburned skin down to the bone?

Priceless (and totally my own fault).

Wanted: Lost Brain Cells

Do you ever have days where you wake up and swear you felt dumber when you got out of bed? [Sadly for me, I have more than my share of those days.]

I woke up this morning and made pancakes for the kids. Got busy unloading the dishwasher and burned the first batch. And not just crisp mind you, but burned so badly that the poor little pancake CSI unit would need dental records to even identify them as former pancakes. I was not at all paying attention - totally forgot what I was doing. Which I never do. [At least not when it comes to warm, delicious hot things first thing in the morning.]

Then I went to exercise. Due to my inability to stay on top of my Netflix queue, the only movie I had to watch while running was "Little Man." Anyone seen this Wayans Brothers movie? I'm sure at some point in time I thought it might be good for a laugh. I'll tell you right now that, no, it isn't. I'm pretty sure I heard brain cells jumping off my shoulders as though my head was the Titanic and they wanted a fighting chance. Can't say as I blame them.

Next came our errands. My cell phone had been charging all last night, and I forgot to stick it in my purse before we left the house. Which led me to miss the phone call from our floor contractor telling us they found "water" when they were removing the kitchen floor in the new house. When I tried to call him back to find out just what he meant by "water," he was already gone for the day. Was it standing water? Water damage? Ruined-new-house kind of water? I could just tell that the brain cells weren't even wearing life vests this time - they were committing suicide in droves.

And the icing on the cake came this afternoon when I took the kids swimming at the pool. We had the pool to ourselves (bonus to living in a condo complex where hardly anyone has kids) and it was such a lovely day. My usual post at the pool? Sitting in the shade with a magazine. Today? Swimming all day like a fish. It was fantastic except for one, teensy, minor detail. Sunscreen.

Sunscreen on the children? Oh, umpteen times. Sunscreen on me? Nada. Yes, sadly, I had multiple chances to apply some and did not. I don't know what I was thinking. I always wear sunscreen. I am a fanatic about EVERYONE wearing sunscreen. Today I was out in the sun for about four hours without a stitch of UVA/UVB protection. And I'm paying for it tonight.

So I sit here shivering, blisters already forming on my red skin and wondering what happened to my brain today. Wondering futilely if the manager up there will hurry and put a light on - in case some of those lost cells try to make it back home. I really need them. Me no likey being so dum. Me like to be suhmart. Help!

Aunts, Uncles, and Kids, Oh My!

One successful Mud Run.
Two trips to the beach (still not enough).
Three tired and happy kids.
Four aunts and uncles to play with.
Five grown-ups in all.
Six rounds of Polly Pockets for Marta and Hannah.
Seven songs from our own Neil Diamond impersonator (always never enough).
Eight seats filled with sand in the car.
Nine games of Mannequin (oh yes, Josh, the game lives on).
What we'd give our weekend? A perfect Ten. It was so much fun and we wish you were still here. Missing you already and hoping for a safe drive home.

[P.S. Hit refresh on your browser if the slideshow doesn't show up - still trying to figure out what I'm doing!]

A home for his birthday

As of nine o'clock central time this morning, my husband is no longer homeless. I have made fun of him nonstop due to his homeless state. He's been frugally bunking it up in some not-so-nice hotels for the last two months - loading everything he owns into his car, then heading to the airport for his weekend trips here. And two weeks from today, the kids and I will join him in our new home. Here's one more look at our house (because now it seems real to me and I'm getting so excited):

We've got some remodeling that begins on Monday (starting with the replacement of all the floors on the entire main level). Once we get everything done, I will post some before and after shots. You will be impressed, trust me.

So happy birthday, baby. No more standing on a street corner with a cardboard sign for you. You now have a place to leave all your junk (at least until I get there and hide it away). See you soon.

Definitive proof that he shares my genetics

We've got some guests coming to visit tomorrow. Josh's brother Pete (and his wife Anna), and Josh's sister, Marta (and her husband Dan), are coming down to compete in the Camp Pendelton 10K Mud Run. We are all extremely excited about this as, frankly, it gives us something fun to do. Josh will be closing on the house in St. Louis this Friday, and will stay the weekend there to ready it up for the remodeling that begins on Monday. Since it is way too early to get packing, it's nice for me to have some company. Plus, we just adore P&A and M&D. And what better excuse to make some "Peterskeevers" and spend a few days at the beach?

Now, as anyone who knows me can tell you, I am a slightly neurotic, mildly OCD (okay, CRAZY) clean freak. My disease becomes especially symptomatic when I have guests coming. I like to present a clean house. One with dusted baseboards. And wiped-down ceiling fans. And organized closets. And tile grout scrubbed with a toothbrush - you know, what any normal, sane person would do for fun on a weekday. Chase was all excited to help me clean - which I figured would translate into him either watching me clean or spraying an entire bottle of 409 into the toilet. Being the nice mother that I am, I let him help.

With some surprisingly decent help on his part, Chase and I got the kids' bathroom done (which will be the guest bathroom this weekend). I mentioned in passing that maybe the kids should use my bathroom from now on as theirs was now clean (and I did not want to have to clean it again tomorrow). Chase took my warning VERY seriously and intended for others to do the same.

I came down the hall a few minutes later to find the bathroom blocked off with yellow police tape, warning all trespassers that it was for "imarginsy" use only.

Seeing his eagerness to safeguard his hard work, I now feel confident that I did indeed get the right baby at the hospital seven-and-a-half years ago. He is so much like me.

Hannah, though, made sure to promptly sneak in and use the facilities, despite the obvious warning.

Which provides conclusive proof to me that she truly IS Josh's daughter. (And not the mailman's like we thought.)

You take the good, you take the bad...

We are a few short weeks away from trading in this California paradise for the humidity, bugs, and snow that make the Midwest so charming. I am very excited to go, and am feeling very optimistic about the changes we are about to face. But in light of all these changes, I thought I'd make a little list to help make it easier to go (and because a girl can never have too many lists. I know, you get that I love lists. Tough.)

Things I will not miss when I leave California:

• May Gray (the annoying phenomenon that occurs every year in which the sun does not come out for the entire month of May - and can sometimes stretch into what the locals call "June Gloom." Yes, I know you don't feel sorry for me, but still. Gray is gray, no matter what else you get all year long).
• Having my kids bump the doors of the Bentley parked next to us at the grocery store (accidentally, of course) and then running like mad when the alarm goes off. (WHY spend that much money on a car? WHY? I just don't get it).
• House hunting for tiny shoe-box houses that cost a million dollars.
• Living in this rental condo.
• Having no yard in which to send the children out to.
• Govehnuh Ahnold on the t.v. commercials shouting exuberantly while flashing his big, toothy grin, "Welcome to Caleeeefohnya."
• Living within the jurisdiction of the Governor Terminator. Seriously.
• Hanging out with all the Spanish nannies at the park.
• The ridiculously high gas prices (we're about the highest in the nation on average, and I just grit my teeth every time I fill up my big, gas-guzzling SUV).
• The massive amount of money I spend on sunscreen (especially great given that the elementary school does not contain an indoor cafeteria. Something I never knew existed. The kids eat lunch outside. Every day. All year long.)
• Picking my husband up at the airport late Friday night with sleepy kids in the backseat.
• Dropping my husband off at the airport Sunday afternoon and counting the seconds until he's back again.

Things I will greatly miss here in Caleeeefohnya:

• The beach (did I mention that we live about three minutes from the ocean? Did I? Sigh.)
• All that lovely year-round sunshine (except for May and June obviously).
• Sea World and The Zoo. Seriously just the best.
• Cheap pedicures.
• All the friends we've made.
• Sbicca in Del Mar (one of my favorite restaurants here).
• Outdoor shopping malls. Yes, in which you can walk and shop outside all year long. Yet another thing I never knew existed until we moved here.
• Absolutely fantastic Mexican food.
• In-N-Out Burger.
• Fresh avocados at roadside farm stands (20 avocados for two bucks - I'm not kidding).
• The beach.
• Not shoveling snow all winter.
• Not even owning a single snow boot, mitten, or winter hat. (Because I gleefully threw them all out when we left Boston).
• Swimming in our outdoor pool in January. And loving it.
• The beach.
• The beach.
• Calling our landlord when something breaks and letting it be THEIR problem.
• Perfectly, gloriously, boring weather in which it is 75 every day and sunny (almost - curse that MAY GRAY).
• The palm trees. I just never got over them. They are so cool.

We have made some wonderful memories. It's been a fantastic year and we will truly miss it here. But, adventure calls us elsewhere. Thanks for a great year Caleeeefohnya. WE'LL BE BACK (at least to visit, for sure).

my great vocal talents

I was driving in the car with Hannah today. We were running some errands and she asked me to turn on some "nuusic," as she calls it (I totally love it that she still says some words wrong). I asked her what she wanted to listen to, and her request was "the Christine nuusic," (for those of you that don't speak Hannah fluently, it means the Phantom of the Opera). So I put the CD on for her. After a few minutes, I'm getting my Phantom groove on and I start singing along - fairly loud and enthusiastically, I might add.

She had been singing as well, but stopped suddenly and said, "You can just turn it off now. I don't like it when you sing."

Christie through the years

My Dad (or who shall now be called He Who Gets No Presents Because He Emails Bad Pictures) sent me some classic moments in my history. And I am nothing, if not totally into making fun of myself. So indulge me, dear internets, on a little look back through time:

A girl can dream, can't she? Little did I know that it would take several years and thousands of dollars in plastic surgery before I'd fill one of those out. Sad, sad, sad.

"Me likey these super cool green goggles. They go so well with my ruffled peasant shirt and my sporty reversible vest. These will look super good when I go out at recess with my friends and we do handstands on the back fence in our dresses." (Yes, that is what I did. We always loved it when the truck drivers would honk. YIKES).

"I don't get why all the girls my age want to dress up for Halloween and be dumb princesses or fairies. I think one can best draw positive attention by cross dressing as a homeless person. That is a surefire way NOT to get teased in the easily-forgiven world that is fifth grade."

"Oh my gawsh. Like how much longer do I like have to spend with my FAMILY looking at these stupid airplanes? I like SOOO have to get out of here and get home cause maybe a Boy called and like I might miss it. Plus, I've totally got this new Erasure tape that I can't wait to put in my boom box and listen to while I think about ways to make my hair like more bigger and more crunchier. Plus, all this like fresh air is like totally making my bangs go FLAT."

"Man, it only took me two hours in the bathroom to get my hair this big and I am lovin' it. And I am so glad I figured out that wearing a sofa pattern as a shirt is like so RAD. I mean, big, floral prints don't make you look wide at all. Wait! Don't take the picture yet. I don't have enough lipstick on. Somebody hand me some Wet-n-Wild, STAT! Okay. I'm ready. Hurry, okay? Cause like 90210 starts in like 30 minutes and I so need to find out if Donna and David are finally going to do it."

So there you have it...me in my finest moments. I share these with you only to illustrate JUST HOW ATTRACTIVE I AM NOW, people. I have come a long way. And no, I don't do handstands in dresses anymore. And I do spend a lot of time in the bathroom, only it's making sure my hair is neither big, nor crunchy.

And yes, I still think I'm like totally awesome.

Lazy Sunday afternoon

I bribed the kids this afternoon with M&Ms if they would sit still for a photo shoot (sad how easily they can be bought. Guess we know where they get it from, huh?). I think we got some good shots. Here are a few for your viewing pleasure (not that I'm bragging about my beautiful children or anything, mind you. I'd never do that. Oh, no. Not me):