Larkin Family

It ain't much, but it's MINE!

2012-01-03T21:06:00.001-08:00

"Babe, I'm taking a spinning class tomorrow with Mindy." I explained to my husband.

He looked at me doubtfully, "Let me help you out with that. It's a SPIN class. Not a spinning class. You don't want to embarrass yourself on the first day."

The next morning I woke up at 4:45 to make it to my 6:00 class. In hind sight I ask myself...why?! I had been tossing through a weird Christmas Eve-like sleep pattern. I kept waking up wondering if it was time to go to the gym, but hoping it wasn't.

I heard someone post on facebook one time, "The joys of the gym in January." Meaning, when will all these new year resolutioners get off my elliptical? I just knew everyone would take one look at me and know I was one of those people who hadn't been to the gym in ages. Or years. Or decades. Whatever.

I walked in and was surprised to smell it. It smells exactly how I remember. Exactly! Smoothies, sweat, clean towels and shampoo steam.

Embarrassing private thought: "Where in the heck are the elevators? These stairs are making me winded!"

After wandering around, trying to look busy and getting lost twice because of wall to wall mirror confusion, I finally met my friend. She kindly gave me the lowdown on how to get set up for a spin class.

The perky instructor had kind eyes, THANK GOODNESS. She matter of factly looked me up and down and told me my goal was just to make it to the end of the class. Ouch. But, the truth.

The first work out in over a year is a brick in the throat and fire in the lungs. How can two previously obedient and well functioning organs suddenly turn on me and refuse to give me air?

Gratefully, I have the wisdom of many a first work-out to know that the first day is death and it will get better.

Perky instructor was right. I prayed my way through those 55 minutes. I didn't want to fall of that bike or worse...barf.

I have a lot of wishy- washy wimp feelings about the gym. I doubt my determination to get up early. How I hate any hour before 8 am. I defeat myself before I even get started, sometimes.

I worry the health- nut skinny thigh girls will smell the cookie dough seeping from my pores.

I compare, I compare, I compare.

Here's the deal though: Take care of your body, it's the only place you have to live. Be grateful for the mind-blowing creation it is. Don't curse it for the way it varies from someone else's. Be generous to it.

I love to study old people. Really old people. People who poop in a pan in their beds and have had bed head for years. Do you think they'd turn down my strong body because last year's jeans are too tight? Do you think they'd turn their noses up at riding a wave into shore, or a climb to the summit? Heck, do you think they'd refuse to carry a sleeping baby with my arms because they have a little pudge? Nope, they'd relish five more minutes with a body that could carry them anywhere.

I think it pains God when I spend so much time sad about my body. What a punk I am! Get over it sister! Use it. Use it up. It doesn't look like it did when I was 17, but it is forgiving and eager to improve when I treat it right.

Work it. Enjoy it. Love it.

The Twilight Double Standard

2011-11-17T11:30:00.000-08:00

I was rushing around the house, waving my arms and yelling (in a nice get your butt in gear way) at my entire family. It was Sunday night and I needed everyone in the van. My nauseatingly creative friend, Lil had offered me her homemade stencils to make a Breaking Dawn t-shirt. I had no clue what the stencils even were, but I know Lil and they would have to be genius. The stencils were across town and I needed them.

We all raced down the 215 towards Henderson. I leaned forward in my seat, Twilight sparkle in my twitching eye. Must get the stencils. Nic turned to me and said, "You know, if I was going to wait in line all night with my guy friends to see the latest Megan Fox movie, clad in my homemade t-shirt you would have a fit. There's such a double standard."

I sighed. Edward and I don't have time for this trivial banter.

I tried to explain. It isn't that I lay awake nights thinking in a lusty way about Rob Pattinson. Honestly, Edward could be played by any fool, and I'd feel the same way. It's the romance. It's the story. I get drunk on it over and over. AND I'LL MAKE NO APOLOGIES FOR IT!

Take the old BBC version of Pride and Prejudice. No insult intended on Colin Firth, but he's not the epitome of a manly man. His jaw is not chiseled. He boasts no biceps or washboard abs. But he melts my innards every time I watch it. It's the romance! It's dreamy, so intoxicating. When I see him in that movie...I don't feel about him the way every red-blooded male feels about Megan Fox when she emerges from the explosion in a torn tank top and all dewy with sparkling sweat. It's DIFFERENT! It's the delicious, heady perfume of out -of- this world romance that I love. Not a lusty obsession.

So yes, I will wait in line for hours tonight in my homemade t-shirt. I will cat call and squeal. I will claw the arm next to me when Bella says "I do". And I will come home and crawl in bed with my guy and thank the Lord that he is mine.

It's not a double standard. It's Twilight.

Deep Thoughts in Walgreen's

2011-11-04T20:57:00.000-07:00

Nic came home and surveyed the battlefield. Greasy paper plates and empty Cheetos bags littered the kitchen table. My permanent butt print and the butt prints of several of my children still lingered on the couch cushions. The reasons why don't matter, it was just one of those days. He gave me a long hug and told me, "Even perfect mothers need a day off."

He sent me to Walgreen's to buy milk and bread and a flavor of Tylenol that maybe Evan won't barf up on the couch. I gladly went. It was rainy and cool and I wanted to lay on the pavement and smell that wet asphalt smell til I died. I don't know why I love that smell so much.

I had me a time at Walgreen's. The fluorescent lighting was cheerful. I took my sweet time with my undersized shopping cart. I shuffled down each aisle in my sweatpants and contemplated. I knew it was a perfect waste of money, but I couldn't resist picking up a rag mag spewing the sordid details of Justin Bieber - baby daddy.

I tried to think of situations in which turquoise nail polish would work in my life.

I walked by the enemas and was grateful I didn't need one.

I gasped at the audacity of charging five dollars for a pint of Ben and Jerry's.

I lingered in the baby lotions and binkies and felt a tiny pinch in my heart to have another baby.

I smiled down the Christmas aisle and pushed all of the buttons on the annoying singing do-hickeys. My favorite was Miss piggy in a cheap and easy leopard dress singing "Santa Baby".

I scowled at the paperback shelf and wondered how on earth the airbrushed abs and heaving bosom books make the NY times best seller list every darn week? Who reads those?! Gross.

On the way out, there was an Asian man impatiently accosting an arguing couple at the Red Box. He was tired of waiting and wanted the couple to check if the machine had cartoos. Not cartoons, cartoos. The couple had no idea what he was talking about. I'm a mom. I know what he was talking about. He was trying to say Cars 2.

I should have cleared up the matter. But I didn't.

It was just one of those days.

All It Took

2011-09-14T16:14:00.001-07:00

Poor me. Poor, poor me. Walking in the rain to the medical building to have my blood drawn. Then the lab was closed down, door locked. Moved to another location. On the cell phone, in the hall listening to the robot lady on the phone tell me of another lab I could go to. Poor me.

All it took was a peek into another room on my way out. The cancer room. A chubby mama, holding her baby with the daddy near by. Cancer? In one of them? How about a peek into the dialysis room? A woman with a ruddy face and watery eyes tucked her dry, messy hair into a baseball cap. Waiting to recycle her blood so she can stay alive.

All it took was a book I'm reading in the waiting room about the Irish potato famine. A mom waking up with no more milk to feed her baby. Pricking the vein of her horse to feed her sons with blood. Fever, death, shallow graves in frozen ground.

I recently ate a dinner with potatoes. They were piled high on my plate, steamy and covered in ketchup. I ate so much I felt sick the rest of the night.

I felt so lucky to make dinner for my kids tonight. Dropping sticky dumplings into a rich soup of fish, onions and cream. I hear them slurping the dregs from the kitchen.

I wonder how many days I've truly, truly worried. I worry about if I have too many dimples on the backs of my thighs to go swimming in public. I worry if my Tivo recorded Vampire Diaries. And of course, like all of us, I have true worries.

But for the most part, I have a blessed life. I need to worry more about my hands. What have they done to lift another today?

Summa Summa Summa Time

2011-08-15T14:26:00.000-07:00

I think I've won the award for most epically lazy blogger this summer. Lest I spoil my rep, I shall continue blogging with the least amount of effort possible...hence this hodge podge of unrelated summer photos.

My handsome tan husband had a birthday. The highlights were the puppy I bought him last minute and the incredibly manly wrapping paper I found for him. Not that there's any shame in the Tinkerbell and Elmo motif last year...Julie was my first friend I made in Las Vegas. She is a superstar among women and I am sad sad sad she moved away. This was our fancy farewell photo.
This is Nic getting Jemma psyched for the chicken chase in Gunlock, UT.
Two faces I kiss often. Wouldn't you?
The 4th of July celebration in Pine Valley Utah was so darn patriotic I about had a heart attack. I love my country.

I was just feelin' it that day. Doesn't it just look like I was feelin' it?
Did you know there are cool hikes that are super easy for kids up at Mt. Charleston? Well, it was a little much for Jemma apparently, but check out the cool pay off at the end! (Scroll down)
A waterfall! Who knew?
Do you remember feeling like you were hot stuff when you were little? For me it was when I got some lime green sunglasses with rainbow paint splatters on the lenses and a flash dance sweatshirt that hung off of one shoulder. HOT STUFF. For Afton and Ellie it was sitting on the top of the truck at the drive-in. Doesn't get any cooler.
There you have it friends, the laziest summer re-cap ever. Go me! :)

Strange Brew

2011-07-13T15:35:00.000-07:00

You never know what a new day will bring. Lots of times it brings exactly what it brought the last ten days. Not so today. When I woke up this morning I had no idea that:

-The dog would eat my stash of powdered Crystal Light.

-Jemma would eat the powdered stash of my feet skin which was still sitting in the Ped Egg after I tamed my Sasquatch feet.

-I would have an artichoke and a spoonful of Nutella for lunch.

-I'd be diagnosed with a geezer ailment. A hernia. What?!

-A one armed man in a turban would steal my cell phone and then lie his head off about it.-When I told my sister about my phone she happened to know the guy who stole it. Ha!

It's been a weird day. I'm going to go hide my other electronic devices and powdered substances now. I also can't get over the thought that he hid my phone IN his turban. I keep picturing myself unwrapping it slowly while saying, "Ha-LOW! My name is Angie Larkin. You steal my cell phone. Prepare to DIE!

For Two Minutes

2011-06-08T16:23:00.000-07:00

For two minutes I was a fish at Walmart. It was a rather dark exercise of imagination.

For instance, what if I were that one Beta fish that was more brown than magenta or turquoise? Who's going to buy a brown Beta? How many times would fish get restocked while that little brown one just sat there?

There is always that one fish who is sucked up against that vent thing. Deader than a door nail. Did that fish gradually drift that way after death, or did it die because it swam a little too close and got trapped and died of a massive hickey?

Goldfish are either at the bottom of the gene pool or they get no respect. Because there were at LEAST 20 dead ones all in a pile at the bottom of their tank. What's that all about? And do the live ones just swim around and avoid the dead gaze of their fallen comrades? That's gotta mess a fish up.

Why do some float when they die and some sink? And the saddest thing of the day: The little fish who swims sideways because he's on his way out. I'd rather be the trout in the meat aisle, dead under plastic with my son repeatedly poking its eye than be the sideways swimmer.

They say fish brains totally reboot with no memory of the past every three seconds. I hope that's true.

Excuse me, I will now go apply some black eyeliner and lipstick, stick a few hundred safety pins on my t-shirt and lay in a dark room listening to My Chemical Romance.

Friday the 13th, 2001

2011-04-13T09:32:00.000-07:00

I woke up on the second day of my honeymoon and cried like I never cried before. It wasn't a wailing cry or a puffy nosed boogery cry, just a cry I felt down into my bones. It's not like I didn't know that one of us would die before the other (unless we performed some sort of Thelma and Louise stunt), it's just that I understood for the first time that there would come a day when one of us would wake up without the other one. And now that I had found THE ONE and married THE ONE, the thought truly soaked in that morning and it vaporized my heart. I hugged him so tightly. I wanted to be absorbed into his body so that it would be impossible for us to be parted. I know, I was so dramatic. But it's how I felt!

So he sung to me. Ladies, I lucked out in this department. His voice is like butta. He sang:

Today, while the blossoms still cling to the vine,
I'll taste your strawberries, I'll drink your sweet wine,
A million tomorrows could all pass away,
There I forget all the joy that is mine, today.

By then I was bawling too hard to listen to the second verse.

What a beautiful and a scary thing to let yourself love someone so much. It requires inhuman amounts of trust, because if they turn out to be a dud, you are so hosed. Luckily, he's anything but a dud.

My marriage is a testament to me that God has a plan for us all. He shooed me like a clueless baby chick through my crazy life and into the arms of the perfect man for me. He has taught me to repress my swamp witch tendencies. Through watching his meekness I softened into a new person. He's never yelled at me once in our entire marriage. Bah! I wish I could say the same!

He woke me this morning with a little blue box and a kiss. If I may quote Salt and Pepa: "Whatta man whatta man whatta man, whatta mighty good man".

Happy tenth baby. Yay us!

A weekend in favorites

2011-03-27T20:23:00.000-07:00

The best thing anyone said to me this weekend was: You look like Elizabeth Taylor, only more wholesome.

The best thing I ate this weekend was something I have never before tasted: It was breaded shrimp in this sweet mayo-like sauce with candied pecans. Oh, and the bowl of flawless huge berries atop chewy granola and Tahitian vanilla yogurt wasn't bad either!

The funniest thing I saw this weekend was a huge missile aimed at the sky on the side of Route 66. Perched on top was, wait for it....Snoopy.

My favorite thing I wore was a new pair of cork wedged heels with silver flecks in the corky part. I buckled them too tightly though, and almost required amputation after dinner.

My favorite person I met was a man who has worked in 32 different countries. He was like Indiana Jones and held me captive as he regaled me with the tale of his 500 mile trip down the Nile river with a bunch of refugees aboard.

My favorite fuzzy moment was waking up with my sweetheart in a pillowy king sized bed and watching The Joy of Painting with Bob Ross. They were happy little trees indeed.

My favorite thing I wanted to buy but didn't was a can of bandaids that looked like strips of bacon.

My favorite traveling song for this weekend was Hurt. The NIN song that Johnny Cash so expertly covered.

Scottsdale, if you weren't an even hotter armpit than Vegas, I'd almost move there.

A Sunday

2011-03-21T00:17:00.000-07:00

Oh...my little blog, I still love you. I know it's been a while.

I was strangely reflective today. Like a monk. A really happy monk. I even got teary a few times. I gave out random hugs to people I don't ever hug. It was weird.

I was sitting in church. My observation super powers were working overtime. A 10 month old baby behind me wore the facial expressions of a poised 25 year old pearl -wearing lady. She was a lady- baby and she kept looking at me. Adorable. Her dad directed the choir in a song that made my heart do a Grinchy swelling thing. I watched a plain woman in a simple black dress sing with meaning and joy. It made her so beautiful.

I noticed the soft ringlets curled into a little girl's hair. Her dress and headband so fancy. Her mom - careful and quiet.

I looked around at many faces I knew. People with problems. People I've had problems with. But all of them together in this place. All of us hoping to soak in a little strength. Add some oil to our lamps. Show our God we love him. I felt it, that we all are the same to Him and it made me love those faces.

Then at home some family gathered around my table. We laughed and remembered the time (he who shall remain unnamed) put soap in the fancy Country Club fountains and the suds grew to 8 feet tall and out into the street. We ate bacon wrapped chilis and deviled eggs and drank grape Kool-aid and Dr. Pepper on ice. Little ones who don't want to be little anymore laughed at jokes they didn't quite get. A kid ran through the living room missing his pants and Dad had to go on a turd hunt. Grown -up girls told harmless secrets while grown -up boys did what they do which happened to be giving a test drive to a random dude in a car we weren't selling. Boys.

Then everyone left and I looked at my table. It was sticky with used up fudgescicle sticks, and littered with mostly empty plates. Someone wanted the chili, but not the bacon. I could hear the noise we had just been making and I wanted to call them all back to spend some more time around the table with me.

I feel blessed to be around all of my peeps. All of 'em.

Don't Wanna

2011-01-02T00:16:00.000-08:00

In the days of the Cosby Show and Madonna, McDonald's served the most delectable apple pies. Not the dry crumbly wannabe pies of today. The old ones were deep fried, boiling hot with crispy, oily skin covered in crunchy golden bubbles. They trumped hot fudge sundaes if that tells you anything. I loved them like Gollum loves his precious.

One day, while eating at McDonald's, my dad saw me looking a little glum.

"What's wrong Angie?" ( I was about 5 btw)

"I'm depressed."

"Why?"

"Because this is my last bite of apple pie."

All good things come to an end. Now Christmas is over and I feel like I just ate my last bite of apple pie. My Christmas manicure has chipped off. I poured the eggnog down the drain. It glubbed out thick and yellow and coated the sink. I haven't had the heart to plug in the outdoor lights for three days. Okay, that was dramatic...I just forgot to actually. But still. I wouldn't have forgotten if it were still Christmas!

But the worst - Trashing the gingerbread houses. The trash was full and I pressed them down in the bag with a flat palm, crumbling them into sweet smelling victims of Hurricane Angie. Christmas is over and all evidences of it must die. Okay. That also was melodramatic.

Sigh.

You know what, though? I'm leaving my cards up. I'm leaving them up well into February!

The tree's getting the boot on Monday.

At least I have the extra 10 pounds I'm sure I've gained to keep me warm through the rest of the winter.

Gag.

I See You

2010-12-12T00:03:00.000-08:00

He was asleep in my lap. I was up too late. I'm always up too late. If he had his way, our bedtime would be 7:45 pm and we'd wake up by 5:00. If I had my way, the human body wouldn't need sleep at all, hummus would have no calories and he'd quit razzing me about watching Tivoed Oprahs.

I'd been going all day and hadn't really noticed I had him around. I knew his body was around. I heard him close cupboard doors and thump down the stairs. I'd put a plate of dinner in front of him and asked him about his day. But I hadn't noticed him yet. I ran out of Oprahs. Then I noticed him.

His hand was warm, dead weight as I lifted it to my face. I covered my eye with his palm and felt the heat press through my skin. I kissed his knuckles one by one. I could smell the citrus oil on his fingers from the Clementine orange he'd eaten earlier. I should have done this when he was awake.

What if I were alone? There would be no flannel clad spooning at night. No one to take a heavy purse from my arm and shamelessly carry it through the mall. No kiss after prayer. No soft white t-shirt to bury my face into. No armpit to lay in. Do you know how much I love the smell of his deodorant?

I love my Nicolas.

Kicking and Screaming

2010-09-26T21:38:00.000-07:00

It's not my fault I've been raised to be a hermit. Growing up at the end of a 5 mile dirt road in the shadow of a mountain does not lend itself to being all that neighborly. When we'd see more than one puff of car dust come of the road per day, the same routine would inevitably ensue. Someone would go the drawer and get the binoculars. That someone would then attempt to identify the vehicle. If the car wasn't familiar, there'd be more squinting through binoculars accompanied by disgusted comments about the over abundance of traffic that day. Like I said, my nature is not my fault.

So today when we got home from church and our neighbors of two months poked their faces over the wall asked us over for some pinata beating, I sort of squeezed my butt muscles and looked at Nic like a creepy man just offered me a fuzzy lollipop. Nic, the consummate Mr. Friendly warmly accepted.

We walked exactly ten steps from our front door to theirs. Franklin was from Dominican Republic and his wife, from Mexico. We were given Capri Suns and plates piled with fresh crab salad, halves of avocados and a salsa so hot I had to secretly keep wiping my water hose nose on my sleeve. It was food from heaven.

They explained to us that though the party was to start at 6:00, Latin people are late so we might be hanging out for a while. In the back yard I sat next to a young girl who escaped from Cuba with her family and who was glad to be rid of government issued food rations of 5lbs of rice and six eggs per person per month. More people trickled in bringing more food: chilies stuffed with cheese and wrapped in bacon (I'm so biting my knuckle right now), BBQ ed chicken thighs, pans of rice and more salsas....oh the salsas.

A tiny and perfectly manicured man came in with a plaid cap, pink polo, and shiny brown boots. He turned on the irresistible beat of salsa and mirenge music. People got up from their chairs and danced with glasses of wine still in hand. I'm pretty sure I've mastered salsa dancing. It goes a little somthin' like this: Chicken wings out, fists to chest, hips all Shakira style and use your toes to squash, squash, squash the bug MINI KICK! Repeat.

At one point Nic looked over and said, "So do you feel like a total dork shunning our neighbors this whole time?" I said, "Yes." Then I ate another bacon wrapped chili.

Eventually I had to be the wet blanket and tell the kids that 19 Tootsie rolls was the limit and it was an hour past bedtime. I did my best to get them home, scrub the layers of sucker slime from their faces and get them to bed. Then I went in my room and put on the purple muu-muu Nic hates and spied out my window into the neighbor's back yard (sans binoculars). They were still dancing and I was oh so glad Nic made me be friendly.

Gasp

2010-09-16T13:09:00.000-07:00

(Just so you know, I do not enjoy this flared nostril, hurry up and take the picture so I can find a bush to barf in look.)

I started running because my runner sister -in -law Apryl is so skinny and fit it breaks your heart. That's the truth of it. It was purely vanity.

I thought that if in some universe I could run for miles than there would be no possible way I could remain fat. Apparently even fat people can run for miles. My mistake.

Last Saturday I ran a 5k. I had on spandex and a crinkly paper number pinned to my belly. This was quite a change from my norm. The whole experience was a mixture of elation/humiliation. I was elated to be part of something. There was music, there were teams, there was a balloon arch starting line and I got to run by and grab a cup of water and toss it during the race. (I've always wanted to do that haven't you?) There was my husband hooting and my kids pogo sticking up and down at the finish line. A friend snapped a photo and a random fireman leaned over and clapped me through my last 50 feet. It was heartwarming to have the support.

I was also served the fattest slice of humble pie I've ever choked down! Oh. It hurts me. I expected to have the majority of the runners pass me in the first few minutes. I did NOT expect said runners to be literally (I lie not) 80 years old and wearing a very visible diaper under their running shorts, or 100 lbs heavier than me. Pushing a double stroller. Nor did I expect to look behind me mid race and see not ONE person running. All of them were walking. I sort of wanted to run right off of the course and go into someones yard and hide under a trampoline.

Okay, so I'm not as awesome as I thought I was. Okay, so I haven't lost one single pound. (Whoever said runners can eat whatever they want - dirty lie.) Okay, so I'm sort of nursing a throbbing black eye from reality punching me in the face. I haven't run once since the race. I'm in a kind of "what now?" funk.

The truth of it is that I can't compare myself. I have to appreciate how far I've come. I remember wringing my hands and waking up all night the night before I was to conquer a huge hurdle on my beginning runner's program. The task: Run four minutes. I was POSITIVE I couldn't do it. Then, I did it and I cried like a little baby on the side of the road. That is something my friend. That IS something.

Now I can run for 45 minutes. I can't run fast. I don't look good in my spandex, that's for sure. But I stuck with something for once. I ran for 6 months straight and I'm not giving up. I dread these cold dark winter mornings coming up, but hey. It can be done. I get what I want and I want to be a runner.

I Hope You Know

2010-09-02T09:43:00.001-07:00

It was after she had poured a bowl of tomato soup on her head and after I had cleaned it off with a questionably smelling dish rag that I lifted her up to help stir the cake batter. Evan was up on the chair too and he marveled at how robotically fast I could whir the batter around into a whirlpool with nothing more than a whisk and my mom muscles. Evan and Jemma took turns back and forth stirring, and I devised a little song to let them know how long their turn was - hoping one would not claw off the other's face in impatience.

"Oh yes we're stirring,
stirring,
stirring up the cake" (repeated 3x's)

There was a moment when my hand was over Jemma's helping her to stir while I was singing that she looked at me with complete amusement and joy. Time stopped. My heart squeezed. It was a perfect mom moment that you pray happen more often. (As opposed to those mom moments you cringe over and cry in the closet about.) It got me to thinking. She likely won't remember anything about this day.

She won't know that she has some special anus radar that causes her to poop at the exact moment I'm late to leave for somewhere important. She won't know how tired I am of reading that blasted ladybug book over and over, but I do it anyway because she loves it so much. She'll never know that when she is sick I check for fever against her forehead with my lips because it seems like the most temperature sensitive thing to do. She won't remember every tiny fingernail I clipped or song I've sung while she clings to wakefulness against my chest.

But someday, she'll be a happy grown woman. It will be the drops of my love in the bucket of her being that make her so.

When I die and am in heaven, I want certain things to happen. I want to know who killed JFK. I want my husband to know what 3 months of pregnancy nausea really does to you. (I fantasize about the day he falls at my knees and thanks me for the combined 9 months of misery I went through to give him babies.) And I want my children to magically comprehend how ridiculously I loved them.

If Evan turns out to be some sweaty, wife-beater wearing butt scratcher, I swear I'll stick my head in the garbage disposal and flip the switch myself. Motherhood is too much work to have it blow up in my face. My biggest hope for them honestly, is that they have the opportunity to love a little child the way that I get to love them. That will tweak their souls in the way I think God wants them tweaked. Making people. Caring for them. It is one crazy ride. Can I get an amen?

It came to me at a stoplight on Charleston

2010-08-03T17:41:00.000-07:00

I was at a stoplight thinking that I'd never seen a summer swirl by so fast. Is it getting older that does it? Like being on the outside edge of a spinning merry-go-round. It goes so fast you hang on for dear life. But being in the middle is like being young. It creeps and you wish it would go faster. You wish for something exciting to happen. I remember those summers.

Summers that were measured in boxes of mac-and-cheese eaten, levels of Tetris conquered and number of sun burns that peeled. Summers when I waited til 8pm to shower because that's when all the fun stuff was going to happen anyway. Summers waiting for that boy to visit and when he did, he kissed me by the pond and then drove back to where he came from.

Back then summers meant something. Your life could be totally different after the summer. You could read teen magazines and reinvent yourself and swear that "this year" would be different because you mastered the fresh face makeup tips on page 23. You could find that what's his name's voice changed and he grew three whiskers and now he isn't what's his name anymore. You could go from 12 to 13. And that's totally different.

Now, summer seems to be a few days of crossing off calendar squares. It's a count down to when I need to buy pencils and new shoes. It's packing marshmallows and sweatshirts for the beach and then coming home and washing that sweatshirt...feeling like I JUST packed that.

I'm measuring this summer by the soggy yet luscious bottoms of Cafe Rio salads eaten, number of rooms painted in a color that sort of spazzes me out. Measured in the days I can make it past noon before cartoons come on. This is the summer I couldn't make it to the grocery store to save my life. It's flying by. It's speed is going to rip me from the merry-go-round and all of the sudden I'll be picking that pumpkin in the back yard that is only a soft yellow flower right now.

I'm going to do some more things that will mark this summer. I don't like it when days blur together and all of the sudden someone's lost a tooth, someone has five new words and someone already needs a haircut and I had no idea how we got there.

Excuse me...I need to go make this the summer I invented the best Fro-yo combo ever, not the summer I farted around the computer.

When Dr. Phil Shaved His Moustache

2010-05-14T15:37:00.000-07:00

I remember the first time it reared it's head. I had been dating Nic for quite a while and was pretty comfortable with the fact that I was going to marry him. I had gone to Walmart to buy some high quality fashionable summer duds on my GAP employee budget. I settled on a pair of elastic waisted blue stretchy capris. We were at his parent's house and I was walking up their purple carpeted stairs and Nic was behind me. He must have wondered how to phrase it, finally choosing: "Whatcha wearing?"

The truth was, I chose those capris out of the granny section. The section where they sell button-up tops with embroidered butterflies and right next door - a dazzling display of mu-mus. I felt safe in the fact I had snatched me a man and now felt okay shopping in the granny section at age 23. I defended myself by informing him that capris are all the rage! They are a perfect mutation of shorts and pants...all the stylish Mormon girls are wearing them now etc... He looked at me and proceeded to tell me about a lady he knew growing up who somehow told herself it was ok to come to church in a house dress with a zipper. I know he was picturing me 30 years from then in my Sunday mu-mu.

I'm talking about The Rut. Did I like how I looked in those capris? Not really. Would I have worn them on a hot date when I first met Nic? Nope. It's just easy to get into a rut. *DISCLAIMER: Do we all need a day in sweats and no makeup? Yes. Do we have to be smokin' hot mamas all the time? No. That's not what I'm talking about.

The other day on Oprah, Dr. Phil was saying everyone should do something that wasn't the norm to feel more alive. To demonstrate his point he shaved off his moustache that he had worn for the last 40 years! I was inspired! (Snort, giggle) Yes I was! When he turned around and revealed his new face, he looked great! He asked everyone to consider doing something they hadn't imagined for themselves. Why not?

What are your ruts? I have my routines, some necessary, some REALLY not. I wondered what I could do with my time that would be better.

Guess what? This girl who hasn't exercised since college recently became a runner....jogger...okay shuffler. For the last 6 weeks I have worked myself up to almost three miles. Never in a million years imagined that for myself. I still have voices that tell me I'm a fool. That I should succumb to the elastic waist band and give up any notion that I can be an active person. That rut feels mighty deep sometimes.

It's exciting to challenge your rut. I want to find more ways to do it. I have more moustaches that need shaving! Why not?

What fleeting dream do you have for yourself that you never thought you could do? Say it! Tell me!

On Being Manly

2010-04-09T09:11:00.000-07:00

An innocent little post. ALL I said on facebook was that I was cooking dinner and my husband was playing Taylor Swift songs on Evan's green recorder. What's the big deal, right? Well, he started receiving phone calls at work. Heckling phone calls that put into question his manliness. Impossible!

This morning I was singing in my best soul sista voice in the shower and Nic called me out. Oh yes he did :) How could I throw him under the bus like that? I made him look like he was some wood elf, skipping through the forest playing leprechaun songs on his pan flute! How could I fail to mention that he was working out the notes for Afton who was wanting to play a Taylor Swift song for the school talent show? (Because it wasn't as funny if I said it that way, but I didn't tell him that) Now his friends are calling him and questioning his manliness!

My sister has been threatening to post a video I made of myself in college called "Hot Dance Moves". Now Nic is behind her in this quest purely for revenge. So now I feel I need to call off the dogs by touting my husband's masculine qualities. Why do I feel like I might be more in trouble after this post?

Okay...best thing ever. Couple weeks ago we biffed it by miscalculating what time we needed to be at an important event. We were dying, writhing in embarrassment trying to work up the nerve to call and say basically "we suck". So I told Nic, "Just blame it on me. Tell them I screwed up." I'll never forget him looking over at me while driving with his one hand (sexy MANLY thing he does) and saying, "Babe, I would never throw you under the bus like that, never." MANLY!

It has taken me a LONG time to admit, but I'm pretty sure Nic is quite a bit smarter than me. It's pretty sexy. (Okay, this may not score manly points with the dudes, but I think it is awesome) I caught him up late one night watching calculus videos on You Tube....for fun.

This boy also feels the need to die apparently. Ever seen him on a motorcycle? Every time I see him ride I want to smack him or kiss him...can't tell which.

He is a different kind of guy. He read Twilight with me. He sings like an angel. He draws and paints. He does not watch ESPN every second of the day. But he's all man:) The most manly thing is that he mans up. He cares for his kids, is loyal to his wife and works his butt off for this family. It's all he cares about. He drives the older car to let his wife drive the nicer one. It's getting harder and harder to find a man like that. So no worries...I can smell his testosterone from here.

Uncomissioned Portrait

2010-03-25T08:45:00.000-07:00

I think it is time to get dressed. Afton just brought me a portrait of me entitled, "Mom in her underwear with hairy legs". She has taken artistic liscence because I know my leg hair does NOT look like Daniel Boone fringe. Does it? Does it?

Thumbs up kind of Wednesday

2010-02-17T15:25:00.000-08:00

I love the days when things just go your way. Yesterday was NOT one of those days. Today was though. Yesterday was a forgot it was picture day, can't find a mystery diaper in the house before two separate groups of guests arrive, key stuck in the the ignition, string of beads breaking at an annoying time type of day. But today....ahhh...deep breath....a good day.

My hair worked out even though I was in a huge rush. I de-crumbed my car and cleaned out the trunk while the baby slept for once. I picked up Nic from work with my kids and ate at Wendy's. We ran into missionaries and random family members. My salad was much more delicious than anticipated and my once a week diet coke tasted like the nectar of the gods.

I went to Deseret Book and while there I noticed Evan had split from the herd and was examining a beautifully done bust of Jesus. The sculpture happened to be right at eye level for Evan. He smiled and smiled at Jesus and then leaned in and gave him a kiss. (Commence heart melting). I asked him, "Evan, do you love Jesus?" He said, "Yep." Then he gave him once more kiss and skipped away.

Jemma was snoozin' again so rather than move her, I parked at the park and let the kids tackle each other on the grass for a few minutes. I read a book that inadvertently pointed out all the ways I can be a jerk and made me want to instead work on building confidence in others with every encounter. I forget how much power we have in the way we treat each other.

Jemma woke up and I got out of the car and felt that white, warm sun on me that feels like Spring Break. After being cooped up for a few days I love to turn my face straight to the sun and close my eyes for as long as I can stand it. Fills my happy cup.

There were a couple of teenage boys at the park and I spent a good deal of time contemplating how I could politely inquire as to how boy number one keeps his pants up when they are belted around him below his butt cheeks. I formulated many ways of asking, but decided against it in the end.

I heard a country song on the radio about a dude appreciating his old car that still ran, a few bucks in a coffee can, (mine happens to be a peanut butter jar), dinner in the oven, a good woman's lovin' (love that cheesy rhyme), ticker still tickin' , etc... That song was me. It's a good life.

It is what it is

2010-01-29T09:19:00.000-08:00

I'm rarely primped and coiffed by kindergarten drop off time. On a normal day I am woken by Jemma before the sun comes up. I moan. Nic goes and gets her and potato sacks her to me. I nurse her and try to sleep. Afton then wakes up at an unholy hour and comes and stares at me. I can hear her breathing through her nose. I can feel her breath on my face. I pretend to sleep. I'm getting pretty good at the subtle fake snore and at not squinting my eyes. Once Jemma starts whispering "ta- ta" and "dee- dee", I know my gig is up. Soon will come the face patting, nose pinching and head butting. Rise and shine.

My mom always tells me that there are keys to successful mommyhood. A couple of these keys include doing at least one load of laundry a day and getting up way before your kids do. I know it's possible because I see the other moms at school show up with a fresh blow-out or damp pony tails. They manage somehow.

I pour cereal and gather backpacks in my p.j.'s. I dress and comb and herd children from room to room. "Did you go pee pee?" "Did you eat all your food?" "Uh-oh, we only have ten more minutes" "You can't wear your snow-suit". "No, you don't need your snow boots." "Yes, I promise you Friday is and has always been a school day".

Two minutes before departure, I take the stairs two at a time and find my clothes that are rumpled accordian style on the floor next to my bed. Exactly where I left them the night before. I always have a fleeting thought of, will the moms notice this is what I wore yesterday? As an afterthought I pull Nic's hoodie we bought on our honeymoon off of a hanger and throw it over yesterday's shirt. Perfect disguise! I look in the mirror and use my knuckles to scrape yesterday's mascara crumbs out from under my eyes. I tell myself, "I gotta get up earlier!"

Drop off, kisses, waves, "See you in a couple hours!" "Run! Don't look back!"

When I got home this morning, Jemma was ready for her nap. I took her upstairs and rocked her. I know when she is asleep because she breaks into a sweat just like her dad. This morning's sleep sweat warmed up her face, turned her cheeks pink and made her smell of the maple syrup I hadn't cleaned off of her face yet. I layed her in her bed. One of her legs had escaped her jammies and was hanging bare outside of the yellow flowered terry cloth. That image was a metaphor for my mom-ness...Everything is fine, people are happy, but nothing will ever be put together perfectly! Amen.

Cat Fight

2010-01-21T13:51:00.000-08:00

I was in a sterile-like room with a shower cap and rubber gloves on. I was standing across from my sister. She's five years older than me and she looked ridiculous in her get- up too. We'd driven 45 minutes across town in the rain with a Stake Relief society president in the back seat to go can our beans, dry milk, rice...and anything else we would live on if "the big one" ever hits. I looked around the room. The other women were slightly pot-bellied like me from having babies. There were crows feet, eyes with day old mascara, outdated wedding rings, successful and not so successful attempts at being fashionable. Just a hodge-podge of Mormon women at the cannery.

I thought back to my days as a teenager. I thought I was so, so (did I mention so) so cool. I could barely breathe because of how awesome I thought I was. I laugh so hard now at what I thought made me like that. Clothes? Music? Boyfriends? Good report card? Lame. I was harmless, but so vain. LOL! I'd die if you could see in my head and understand how important I thought I was.

So standing there in the cannery with my sweats and plastic apron, I just started to giggle. Then that turned into laughing. Which turned into uncontrollable laughing which fetched me some wayward glances from the potato pearl posse. My sister said, "What's so funny?"

I laughed more and pointed to her shower cap and then at mine and back at hers. Then I skipped across the packing room and sang, "Wee! Let's go to the cannery!" My sister understood. We talked about being such fierce big haired teenagers with a world of hearts to break and now we are among the leagues of the unglamorous. I saw myself in the reflection of the squeaky clean windows. I was a pretty frumpy lookin' mamasita. Oh...a full circle moment.

Don't get me wrong. I love my life. I love my babies. I love my house that is sometimes clean and I love my bills getting paid on time. I love folding my laundry GAP style and vacuuming my car mats. I love God and singing and praying my guts out to be better. I love my life. It's just not a glamorous life. And the vain me sometimes misses the cocaine-like draw of pointless and meaningless attention. I know...it's a fault. But this is my blog and I can talk about it if I want.

So, this morning while my husband was swishing with Scope, we had a conversation. In that conversation, I told him that all I require is his awe-like reverence for my womanliness. He choked on his mouthwash, getting some on his tie and told me the house wasn't big enough for my ego. For the most part though, he does give me the paparazzi attention I need. (I still want him to gush about how amazing I look when I'm pregnant...and how could I possibly give birth in such a fertility warrior way...and darn if I don't look downright RADIANT!) It's a work in progress.

I guess it is balancing the housewife with the diva in me that sometimes gets in a cat fight. So, I'll wear lipstick when I pick up my kindergartner, and I'll put perfumed lotion on before bed. I'll still use my thumbnails to scrape cereal off of two day old dirty bowls, and I'll doctor diaper rash with stinky creams. I'll sock away food storage because I love the prophet and will do what he says. I'll pray and sing and watch over the blessed rug rats at church in my new calling. I'll write because it's the only thing that is truly my own anymore. Somewhere in there, I hope I find homeostasis.

Ladies, we rock.

Garth (not Brooks)

2010-01-06T10:05:00.000-08:00

Garth Abbott loved my husband even when he dyed his hair blue and came to church with it like that. Garth Abbott cares for his 90 year old mother and family member with down syndrome. Garth Abbot has a wife, children, and grand children. He has the biggest meaty hands I've ever shook and an even bigger heart. He was my bishop when I was in college and he gave me acceptance, love and a better view of how much God loves me, loves us all. He knew my name in a sea of faces. He has aggressive cancer. He can't pay for the treatment. You can do a good thing by donating an item, service to an online auction for him or just donate money. Email his daughter-in-law at helpgarth@yahoo.com to see what you can do. I didn't think I had any talent or item to share, but I can make a killer Valentine's Day gift basket! What can you do? Check out the details at thedailyabbott.blogspot.com

Special Agent

2009-12-26T09:29:00.000-08:00

The C.I.A. should be recruiting me any day now. My interrogation skills are supreme. Not bragging here...it's just a fact.

I walked into the kitchen this morning to find Evan in a puddle of spilled cereal. His pajamas looked like Swiss Cheese because of the holes freshly cut in them.

Me: Evan? What happened to your pajamas? Why are there holes in them?

Evan: There's no holes. ( With a tone that implied "you silly, silly woman)

Me: Evan, I see the holes and I see the scissors on the floor. Don't lie to Mom.

Evan: There's no holes.

Oh to be young again and not even flinch at a bald face lie.

Me: What color were the scissors you used to cut your pajamas?

Evan: (starting to squirm now) Um.....um....the sharp ones.

Me: That's what I thought.

Tajma Super Fance

2009-12-09T09:11:00.000-08:00

I'm in a good mood this morning. I'm purely tickled with my lot. The kids have bed heads and milk moustaches and are chasing each other around with uncooked spaghetti noodle swords. Jemma is warm and floppy fresh out of her crib. Her cheeks are pink and I love the sound of her nursing to beat the band first thing in the morning. When I nurse this baby I feel like I could take down 50 rabid tigers in a field of broken glass with bare feet...the mothering urge is so strong. Is that weird? I want to absorb her!

I went in my room to answer the phone. That's not interesting, but this is: Earlier this week I was bummed that I had no paint or furniture to decorate this big room with. I saw it as an empty place. Today though, I walked in and the covers were pulled back and a sun beam had landed on my blue snowman flannel sheets. The pillows were askew, the room was every bit as empty as before with nothing more than outdated night stands and a lamp with no shade. But something about the sun warming that little spot on my bed... and the tiny particles of dust even glowed with contentment...that room looked like the presidential Taj MaSuper Fancy suite of the universe. I was grateful for it and didn't want anything else.

I was feeding Jemma in her highchair and a feather from an upstairs comforter somehow floated down stairs, around the corner, into the kitchen and right above Jemma's sticky face. She reached for it and bounced in her chair. It was like a scene out of Forrest Gump.

The vacuum-like draw of my bed beckoned us back and the kids and I lounged around like lazy island natives with not a care. Afton stroked the bit of my calf that peeked out of my terry cloth p.j. bottoms. How perfectly satisfied I was. Then Afton said, "You need to shave your whiskers mom. You must have like 2000 whiskers." I wonder if there really are 2000? I'm too stupidly happy to care.

TWERDS UNITE! (again)

2009-11-11T21:08:00.000-08:00

Click on the invitation to see full size...
Okay ladies! We've waited, we've obsessed, we've combed the internet for pictures and news, we've sniffed our jar of La Push beach sand before bed each night (wait, maybe that's just me), and now the time is actually here! New Moon will be in theaters November 19th! Come celebrate at a dinner party at my new house! I hope to see all of my old cronies and my new ones too! Email me for directions @ cecchiniang@yahoo.com or just call.

I loved seeing you all last year at the Twilight party and hope to see even more of you this time! Come Come Come!!
Love, Ang.

Take Me Home

2009-10-21T10:14:00.001-07:00

I went home for the first time in a long while. I didn't realize how much I missed it. One of my favorite parts of going home is when we finally pass the city limits of Las Vegas and the houses, signs and city smells go away. It feels like unbuttoning your pants after a big meal.

On my way home my mom and I pulled into the town I was born. I passed the hospital, small enough that I could walk around the entire thing by the time you are done tying your shoes. I wondered which window was the room entered the world in.

Main street was so quaint. I recalled the old post office with its dozen steps, the towering stone and wrought iron on the top window. I remember the smell of paper and floor wax. My grandma used to take me there. Go in, to the left, half way down her box was hollow and tinny sounding.

The bank had painted the front display window with the hometown mascot - The Mucker. He was moustached and poised for battle with his boots and pick axe. And since when did banks stop having a display window?

Shop after shop of odds and ends. Books, crafts, hardware. How do they stay in business? A salon in an old house on stilts with a view of main street traffic and a viney plant in the window.

We continued on to my old home. When we hit the dirt the vibration of the washboard road was familiar. I've done it a thousand times, but pulling into the drive, stopping the car and getting out surprises me every time. The silence! The impenetrable darkness! The smell of clean and hay and wet earth. The stars innumerable, white, pressing down so close I forget there even existed so many with Vegas's scant handful that burn through the glow of the city sky. The same thought comes to me every time. "Why don't I live here?"

I pull sleeping kids from sweaty car seats and cover them with blankets before their damp temples and backs get a chill. The smell of my parent's house is delicious and for a sec I feel seventeen and carefree. I put the babies in my old bed and go in my old bathroom for a long awaited pit stop. I flip on the light and the bathroom looks too clean! Where is the tangle of curling iron cords and the sticky hair-sprayed counter tops? Where is the litter of make up and globs of toothpaste in the sink? The knee pads and tennis shoes on the floor? And who the heck is that 31 year old girl in the mirror? I was surprised to see her in deed!

I tip toe into my old room, open the shades like I used to so I could see the mountain while I lay in bed. The waterbed is gone. The walls are now pink. Tasteful pictures are on the wall and a rocking chair for my babies is in the corner. Time warp. Strange and sweet.

The next morning I couldn't resist stopping and smelling the stacked wood, warm and piney in the sun.

We had a beautiful time wiling away the hours on the western porch. Swinging, talking, looking through grandma's cook book from 1943 and watching the mountains.

Jemma chewing (Cruella De'Ville style) on a good clean stick. To my mom's horror of course.

We are gathered near the orchard for a good ol' fashioned apple pickin'.

Kids so excited on the walk to the orchard.

Afton in heaven with her first apple.

Dad testing the spoils. Juicy, crunchy, tart, delicious.

Crew can't decide. He ate one bite of lots.

As the sun went down, I had a silly quiet moment looking up at the canyon. There used to be a tire swing by the corral that I would come to when I had a broken heart or was just plain bored. I've looked at these rocks and shared my soul's complaint with God many a time!

Tina was feeling ambitious and picked the orchard clean with only falling out of a tree once. I hope I get a jar of apple butter or a pie out of the deal. It was a great weekend except for Nic was in Vegas and I missed him. Oh it's good to go home!

Crumb-y

2009-09-29T14:03:00.000-07:00

When I was little I ate my peas in pairs. I imagined that if one went down the hatch he or she would be lonely and afraid, but if it had a buddy it wouldn't be so bad.

At age four I probably should have seen a counselor after watching "Dumbo". The scene where he is outside his mother's cage, in the rain while she swings him in the bend of her trunk...warped my soul irrevocably. Sometimes, randomly I think about how Buzz and Woody will eventually be sold in a garage sale. I have always had a bleeding heart for things that don't really deserve it.

Well, I got rid of my dog Raisin last week because he pees on everything. He was permanently banished to the backyard. It will be getting chilly soon and that was a problem because Hitler's moustache had more hair than Raisin. But I put my foot down. Raisin was not coming back in the house. He lived in the downstairs shower on really hot days as it was. Not the greatest life for a dog. So we found him a new home. Trouble is, everything feels crumb-y now.

Apparently Raisin ate every morsel of everything that even thought about falling on the floor. Now every time a cheerio crunches under my un-pedicured heel, or every time a shard of a Dorito stabs my foot, I think of Raisin. That thought of him leads to more thoughts. Does he feel rejected? Does he miss us? Is he wandering the streets looking for our house?

I watched "Marley and Me" last weekend with my husband, who by the way thinks my heart is made of the most vile, poisonous , icy stone imaginable for what I've insisted on. Let's just say that is NOT the movie to watch after you give your dog the shaft. There was a scene in which the mom had had it with her dog's shenanigans and told the husband to take him to a naughty dog farm. After a couple of days, she apologized and and rescinded her threat. Then at the end of the movie, there was a heart warming montage of pictures and music depicting the long and fulfilling life they shared with their dog. I almost drowned in the tidal wave of "I told you so" that silently poured off of my huz.

I wanted to post a sort of memorial, good -bye raisin photo, but the only photo I could find off hand was one where my husband was standing in the bedroom and Raisin was on the bed (oh my gosh Nic is going to kill me) and somehow the way Raisin's head was with his long nose and huge bat ears superimposed the perfect dog head speedo on my husband. It was the most amazing random photo, but I can't very well post it here.

So, I'm still not sure I did the right thing. The facts: Raisin peed on everything. He's too naked to live outside. I gave away my little doggy. Sigh. I just don't know. Good bye Raisy-boy. I miss you. Sort of..

Rare Leathers

2009-09-15T09:31:00.001-07:00

My husband is a big fan of AXE products. He thinks they can do no wrong. I privately wonder if it is because each container has a picture of a confident dude flanked by two curvaceous beauties? That image so reminds me of the mudflaps on an 18 wheeler...you know the ones with the voluptuous chick who is writhing in her own attractiveness? Yeah, I think that's why he buys these products. He loves to find non-serious ways to be piggy. Let me share with you what his latest bottle of body wash says:

"AXE instinct shower gel. The masculine scent of rare leathers in AXE Instinct arouses your animal magnetism. Use Axe and instinctively act as nature intended...How Dirty Boys Get Clean."

Yeah, if the devil made body wash, this would be it and my husband would buy it.

So this morning I stopped him and said, "Who wants to smell like rare leather anyway?"

And what constitutes "rare leather?" So we commenced a show down on who could come up with the rarest leather.
Me: Ostrich Skin?
Him: Lizard Belly.
Me: Rat Pelt.
Him: Moose armpit.
Me: Chicken feet.
Him: Ant shoulder.
Me: That's not a leather!

I love my husband. I love his indestructible male confidence. When he comes in sweaty and I tell him to go shower, he says: "I know it's hard for you to resist my natural musk". So I guess it's a win win for me in the smell department. I can enjoy his "natural musk" or try my luck at beating off the women when he cleans himself with "rare leathers". I'm a lucky lady.

Dry Shoulders

2009-08-11T11:26:00.000-07:00

Remember spur of the moment trips? I remember when Nic was up at BYU for the summer and I jumped in the car wearing Victoria's secret pajama bottoms and a Hane's white T-shirt. No bag, no toothbrush...just me and wrinkled p.j's. Things are different now that we have kids. We can't be as spurry of the momenty. But on Tuesday, my sister-in-law masterminded a beach trip and we were happy to oblige her whim. This was Jemma's first trip to the ocean and she underwent the traditional rite of passage of Dad putting little baby toes in the water and taking a picture with her name and age carved in the sand. Hmm...maybe I should have posted THAT picture!

Afton was a boogie boardin' mamasita! She couldn't get enough of it! So much more daring than I was at that age. Or um...at my current age. I was so proud of her.

Jemma was a total beach bum. She gazed at the waves and caught dorrito crumbs with the brim of her hat as I ate them above her. She nursed and napped under the umbrella. She got sand in her ears and didn't care. She is the most chill baby.

Afton: Airborne and loving it.
Roxy's next cover model.
Evan could do boy stuff and not get in trouble. He could break sticks and throw mud and test the boundaries of speed and splashiness. He could eat Chips ahoy without limit and stab things that washed up on the beach.
Something about beach towns just sets my mind abloom with mystical magic-ness. Everyday things seem interesting. Walking by a dry cleaners and seeing serious faced Asian people press clothes and wipe sweaty tendrils from thier foreheads. Walking by a beauty parlor, (yes it was a beauty parlor not a salon) with pink and turqouise hair dryers and old ladies getting their weekly poodle do. Then walking by a salon, (not a beauty parlor) and noticing men getting pedicures and men waiting to get pedicures (no women). Only in California.

I had my yearly negotiation with the ocean which includes me standing knee deep in the waves and telling the Pacific, "Don't kill me and I won't kill you". Each year I tell myself I will get in over my head and body surf. I will not be afraid of sharks and getting rolled and coughing up salt water and getting stung by jelly fish. I will. I will. I will.

I didn't. As usual, I left the ocean with wet legs and dry shoulders. Someday.

Leaving the beach we drove by this little sushi place. They had a hand written sign in magic marker that said, "Sorry we don't make change for meters". The windows were open and people were sitting on stools breathing sea air and eating slippery noodles. I don't know if it was because we were leaving (over my dead sunburned body) or what, but I wanted to go in there. I wanted it to be my regular haunt. I wanted a usual table and to know the name of the waitress and she would know I'd want water with lemon.
I think Afton knows how I feel because I had to physically pry her from the parking meter. She loves the beach as much as me. I can't wait til next time. I hope I hop on a boogie board with her and come home with wet hair.

Pumps and Pearls

2009-07-09T13:22:00.001-07:00

Nic and I legally don't exist. We lost our social security cards and driver's licences. So in order to exist again, I made a trip down to the courthouse to obtain a copy of my marriage licence. While driving down main street I discovered one can buy poker chips with your name on them, wigs, vintage furniture, and other things I won't mention . You can also park your car on the "grass" of a seedy motel if you feel like it. Liberating. It's a different world, down town. The buildings are low and squatty and sprawl. The trees are huge and the windows are small. The cars were heavy and made of only metal and glass. I was wishing I had Nic with me as I checked my door lock for the fifth or sixth time.

After getting lost I finally made it to the Marriage Bureau. Oh the memories hit me like a freight train! I remembered climbing those very steps and waiting in that very line with Nic eight years ago. I wished I could remember what I wore, I remember Nic wearing a button up vacationey shirt with jeans and Vans. I suddenly wished I had on pumps and pearls instead of black sweat shorts and a green v -neck t with a mystery stain and rubber flip flops. People were snuggling, hanging on each other, kissing, staring at one another covered in that thick perfume of infatuation/love.

I made it to the glass window, and made my request to a girl with over plucked eyebrows and several gold chains lying on her busty bust. She sighed at me. " I'm going to have to pull this off of micro fiche." I felt old. She wasn't sure how to resurrect my ancient records from the wormy catacombs of the city, so she recruited help from the most knowledgeable clerk in the room who was intently looking professional while facebooking. I handed skinny eyebrows girl my marriage certificate and she said in an impressed voice, "Wow, those look so plain." She then pulled out a marriage certificate from "this century" and waved it's holographic sticker and cactus watermark next to my simple black and white one. Young newlyweds -to -be thought, "She's old". I know they did.

Meanwhile, while skinny eyebrows girl lit her torch and descended to the catacombs I observed the other couples. A thick Asian girl marrying a beefy black guy with snaky dreads. A very young Asian girl marrying a very old Asian man with a bald head and an island like tuft of bangs. But the most notable was the bride in the orange string bikini poorly covered in a gauzy white lava lava marrying her prince with a 3 day beard with beer breath. They had met about an hour and a half ago and were on an i phone frantically trying to gather guests to attend a wedding at a chapel they couldn't remember the name of..."the pink one". He thrust the phone in my face and asked me to confirm to his friend that he was indeed in the courthouse getting a marriage licence. I did so while bikini girl giggled into his armpit. Sigh.

I wanted to imagine her 60 years from now rocking on some porch with knee highs, a mu- mu, and orthopedic shoes. I wanted to imagine beer breath guy bringing her her pills and a glass of water clouded by metamucil. I wanted to imagine him kissing her forehead and sitting next to her with a gnarled old hand resting on her leg. But instead, I saw only a potato salad melting on a hot summer picnic table, in which said potato salad would have a better shelf life than this impending marriage. I held my mouth shut while I watched them sign on the dotted line. He rested his hand on the counter and I noticed he had a broken pinkie wrapped up in electrical tape. Heaven help them. I hope they are at a party some day and tell the story of how they met and how it was love at first sight and that it really was. I know Nic and I weren't love at first sight, (mostly because for two whole days he thought I was a different girl he had already gone on a date with).

I got in the car and examined our marriage licence. My signature was totally different than I sign it now. It was loopy and embellished and unnecessarily girly. Now when I sign checks for the electric company it's sort of like Ang-squiggly squiggle Lar-wavy line. I wanted to be that girl who had time for a ridiculous signature. I drove home and as I got on the freeway and made it back to the suburbs with big houses, small trees and big windows, I wanted to go to my man. I thought about our family and what we've made and who we are. We are different people. But we mean so much to each other and to our kids. We mean something to so many people because we are a family. We are a family. My marriage licence says so...even if it doesn't have a shiny sticker and cactus water mark!

Pudding that was not pudding.

2009-06-16T21:42:00.000-07:00

My friend Sam asked the question the other day, what's happening at your house? The answer? A whole lotta nothin' that adds up to life I suppose. For instance, dress up. Everyday there is some form of "Mom, pretend I'm a mermaid and you heard some singing, oh and you are a prince mom and want to marry a mermaid with a Sleeping Beauty crown and snow white shoes, and a green bow in her hair." Commence innocent glances from behind a lacy fan and singing....and MOM! You are supposed to hear my SINGING and WANT TO MARRY ME. Commence some sort of dialogue (to myself out loud) about the beauty and virtues of said dress up outfit and how I could never marry any other mermaid unless she had a green bow and Snow White shoes.

Here's Ellie and Afton roping Jemma into this charade.
But I must say, Jemma can work a happy meal crown and tu-tu on her head quite well. Uh-huh miss thang (Z snap).
Also, Afton Graduated from the best preschool in town, Aunt Tina's. She felt quite grown up calling her aunt "Catina" all year long like the other kids.

Now, one Saturday my husband came home with a 30.00 bike helmet, a bag of spray paint and a grand vision. I was privately exasperated thinking this idea might resemble the feasibility of the "making real snow fall from the gym ceiling at a ward Christmas party" idea of 2001. Big Thinker my man is. (That's why I love him.) But, when he came home with this bag of goodies I thought, NEVER gonna happen. I was so WRONG! He whipped this baby out in two days! A custom painted SPIDERMAN helmet! Evan was ready to die a very happy boy.

On to the next little thing that is actually a big thing. 50 some years ago, my dad saw my mom skip across the playground with a blond ponytail and snug 501's. (true story) He elbowed his buddy and said, "I'm going to marry that girl." And 2 days after my mom's high school graduation at age 17, she did marry him. Exactly 40 years later they attended the blessing of their 10th grand child Jemma Sage Larkin. Happy 40th anniversary to two people who live only to make each other happy.

Here's to looking forward to many years with my sweetheart. Wait a second, am I toasting or blogging here? It's late. I'm really not sure.
I love this photo of Jemma sitting on my lap in the chapel. The light coming through the windows is as bright and pure as her little spirit. Too bad she is sneering as if she needs a nappy change.
Who needs actual property, yards and pools? I have a cement step, a crispy plant and a dented rubber maid tub with a dead spider in it for my posterity to enjoy.
This photo of Jemma is so Lady Ga Ga.
Kissing the daylights out of Jemma is my favorite little snack.
Speaking of little snacks. This was NOT a little snack. I watched this DARN Oprah about not wasting stuff. Then one day later Afton poured herself some cereal which I will never let her do again. She used half a box in a mixing bowl and used the last 1/3 gallon of milk. Of course it was soggy in the first five minutes and she wouldn't eat the rest. I could not bring myself to throw it out! I ate that stuff all day. This is the bottom of the bowl when I finally cried uncle. It was more like pudding near the end. I may never eat LIFE cereal again. Anyway...that's what's going on.

Today - kept forever.

2009-06-01T23:11:00.001-07:00

The days are flying by! I can't belive I haven't posted in almost a month. The camera has been MIA for a few weeks and I've used that for an excuse. My blog serves two purposes. 1. Creativity outlet - Writing funny stuff that has happened and entertaining myself and you guys. 2. Quasi-journal for sentimental moments and big events, and little events I just want to hang on to. I don't have any pictures, but I want to remember...

-Kissing Jemma's little lips like she were a buttered biscuit...just can't get enough of her milk breath. I don't care that she slimes me every time.

- Singing "I am like a star shining brightly for FHE and watching Evan smile his brains out while he held up his crooked yellow construction paper star in the "sky".

- Giving Nic a bigger kiss and a longer squeeze than usual when he got home tonight and apologizing for being a poop about something I shouldn't have been a poop about.

-Videoing Nic and the baby with a lump in my throat because I know this day will all too soon be a dusty memory. She had on a purple flowered onsie and was experimenting with chuckling. Nic told me about "making it" at work and we remembered how terrified we were two years ago when he first got the job. Afton had a Koolaid moustache and underwear on. Evan just wanted to see himself on the camera in his spiderman underwear and sweaty curls.

-Hmm...I heard screaming and fighting outside earlier and now there are two ambulances parked right outside my window. The twirling red lights are shining right on my face. I am so so anxious to hear news on our house. It's time to move.

I love my little family. This is a portrait of today.

HOW?

2009-05-07T11:55:00.000-07:00

How? How ? How?
How is it that the day starts out like this....Then we go outside and do a little of this...
and a little of this...
and magically I come back inside to find this?

and this?
If anyone runs into the woman that did this to my kitchen. Smack her. And then smack her again. Better yet, smack her husband cuz he contributed too.

Do Tell

2009-04-30T13:20:00.000-07:00

There was no other answer. Afton came to me with that quirky little look on her face and said, "Mom, will you play with me?" No sneakiness, no guile, just a five year old who wanted to play with her mom. I looked around the kitchen at the dirty dishes. Very little counter space was visible. Last night's Jamaican Curry pan now looked and smelled more like Jamaican Furry. It was a mess. But, looking at her face, there was no other answer.

So out came the easy bake oven and two cake mixes + frosting mixes + sprinkles + a weird comb instrument used to make waves in the frosting + mini pans + spoons + mini bowls etc...
We spent an hour mixing up these little concoctions and I loved seeing how happy she was. It was near noon and I still hadn't had a shower. Oh well. When the first cake was finished - chocolate with pink frosting, white frosting dots, and rainbow flower sprinkles, she held it up proudly for the camcorder. OOPS! It slid off her baking tool right onto the floor. Face down of course. We laughed and I'm very sorry to say, ate it right off the floor. What a mess.

That mess got me to thinking about other messes. I'm curious, what is the worst mess you ever had to clean up? I thought of a few. One involved an exploded 2 liter jug of root beer. I never laughed so hard seeing that stuff drip off of my brother's eyelashes. We literally found sticky drips of it in the kitchen for YEARS! The other involved my dog getting hurt, bleeding all over the 9, yes count them 9 couch cushions on my new couch and then getting so upset about it running the other way and spewing doggy diarrhea on all 9, yes count them 9 cushions. (Ran down between the cushions too). Nobody will ever sit on my couch again after this.

But the hardest to clean was when a brand new 3 gallon jug of liquid detergent fell off of the top of my stackable washer and dryer and broke in the night. The next morning there was a sticky blue pool covering my kitchen floor. It had gone under the washer and had even leaked through the wall and covered the bathroom floor. I must say it was pretty amazing. That sucker took many a jumbo roll of Brawny, I'll tell you that. Good times.

What's the worst mess you've ever had?

That'l Learn Ya

2009-04-27T20:07:00.000-07:00

Nothin'. Absolutely nothin'. I've wanted to blog for a month now and there is just whistling air inside the space where my brain used to be. So, I'm just going to share some pictures of life as of late. Speaking of the space where my brain used to be... I was reading yesterday a random quote from Pres. Hinkley. He was talking about not drifting through your days learning absolutely nothing. He encouraged us to always improve our minds because there will always be a use for knowledge. Wouldn't it be fab if I actually had the quote?

So, maybe it's just a bi product of adjusting to three kids and little sleep, but I feel like my forehead bone is about 4 inches thick. My kids call my name ten times before I hear them...I walk into rooms and then forget what I am doing in there... I lose my dog for hours at a time because I didn't realize he even got out. I think my brain is overloaded with trying to love and care for so many people at the same time. I'm sure I'll adjust.

In the meantime though, I miss learning things. I don't have time to just pick up an extra class at UNLV, or take up sewing. So I 'm trying to find little places to learn things. I like watching those Planet Earth Shows with my kids on Sunday mornings. Did you know there are amphibious monkeys? I've made a point to let my husband come home and teach me about financial things. I have always known the word bond, but now I know what one actually is. I try to cook something new each week. I'm trying Jamaican curry this week. Anyway, I think that's all Heavenly Father expects of us...to do what we can. Sometimes my efforts seem hit and miss, but I do what I can. Well, enough contemplation...Here are some pics of life.Afton loves Jemma. They fell asleep together on the couch. I like Afton's squished pig nose on Jemma's head.
Big sissy. Afton is five years older than Jemma. My sister is five years older than me. It's fun to watch what must have happened 31 years ago with me and my sister.
Afton made wings out of sale ads. She was pretty sure when she jumped off the couch it took a smidge longer to touch ground.
Jemma, 20% chicken legs, 5% eyelashes, 75% chubby cheeks.
Delicious evening at Sonic.
Come here my pretty.
Jabba the Jemma in lavender.
Evan got a Spiderman suit for Easter. Here he tests out his web shooting skills.
Evan contemplates his new identity.

RUDE!

2009-03-25T10:51:00.000-07:00

When I first met Nic he would laugh often about how I classified certain things as "rude". For instance...if a cloud covered the sun while I was trying to get a tan that cloud would obviously be "rude". If I stubbed my toe on the door jam, the door jam was "rude". Etc...

Well, now something else is attacking me in a very rude way. This whole pregnancy-postpartum thing. Sigh.

As far as I know, my abdomen was the only body part that was actually pregnant. Why then, do you suppose I cannot get my jeans past my knees? My thighs weren't pregnant were they? RUDE!

How is it possible that after giving birth to a nearly nine pound baby I hop on the scale two days later and find I have lost a whopping seven pounds? RUDE!

And let's not forget the ultimate firing squad of brutal honesty...my children. I have had to give up my personal shower time and have traded it for piling me, Afton, and Evan in at once or else a shower just doesn't happen. During this morning's shower Afton asked me 1.) "Why is your belly button so big like a mole hole?" She then followed with my personal favorite 2.) "Why are your boobs so long now?" Sigh.

Now that I sleep solely on my left side to protect Jemma from Nic rolling on her I have developed this amazing zit on my left cheek. It's pretty much the biggest zit I've ever heard of in real life or in legend...I have affectionately named it Molgarath. (Watch the Spiderwick Chronicles for clarification). Here's a picture of Molgarath.

Even Nic got in on the action when one morning my naturally curly hair was particularly unruly and he told me I looked like Gene Wilder. For those of you who can't remember who that is...he played Willy Wonka on the original Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

I can't deny...he pretty much hit the nail on the head.

So, lately it can be pretty hard to look at myself. But you know what? When I get a little discouraged at what has happened to my body after three kids, this is what I do. I go pick up Jemma and I walk to a mirror and take a good look. I am a mother. I see myself holding her and know there is more to me than what I look like, what longitude my body parts are at, or if a mole would in fact enjoy burrowing in for the winter in my larger than normal belly button. I am a mother! It's pretty amazing. Jemma is pretty amazing. She's beautiful. And every night (several times a night) when she wakes up to be fed and it feels like someone Elmer's glued my eye lids shut and I can barely wake up, I can't help but take one look at her and a smile spreads across my lips because I still can't believe she is mine! I'm happy to see her every time. So I guess I just want to say...Yeah, it's important to look my best and take care of myself, but I'm trying not to dwell on the things out of my control. You know? It's not my fault these things happened anyway...my belly button is just rude.

Hello World!

2009-03-20T09:12:00.000-07:00

Here I am in labor... on March 4th, listening to Jack Johnson whilst conjuring up a very specific memory of me riding along side my hubby on the North Shore of Oahu with my bare feet out the window looking at the ocean. You'd be amazed at how much I clung to that image and how much it helped. Earlier in the day I was picking up Afton from preschool and cursing my false labor. Only...half way back while going 80 mph on the freeway I had a pain that clearly was not false labor. So I spent the next five or six hours puttering around my house hiding in my bedroom from any noise or distraction...reading my Dr. Sears Birth book wondering... is this really it? Finally around 5:50 pm I told Nic, "You better get me to the hospital."
Southern Hills Hospital was a ghost town when I walked into the Labor and Delivery floor. I crawled up onto a bed and said, "Let's do this thing." Unfortunately I did not know that because I tested positive for beta strep I had to have four hours inbetween intrvienous antibiotic doses! Are you kidding me? I'm dialated to a five...in pretty good labor and you are saying I have to wait four more hours? I'd like to see how that's going to happen. So...the nurses treated me like a delicate piece of glass trying not to check me or let my water break as we all stared at the drip drip drip of the antibiotic bag while chanting "GO BABY GO BABY GO!" My chanting got even more sincere as I was at a seven and the nurse infomed me she wouldn't even call the anesthesiologist untill I had recieved all the medicine! Then she said, you are doing great...why don't you try it natural? I have to admit, I was tempted. Afterall, the sensation of a needle fishing around in my spinal juices is not my favorite experience. However, the sensation of delivering my first baby with the epidural shut off was oh so much more not my favorite experience. So...my bff Dr. Chen arrived and gave me my epidural and about an hour later...

Jemma Sage Larkin was born! 8 lbs. 9 oz, 20 inches long at 11:36pm.

Here's my so cool under fire Dr. Swainston. He was singing "If you leave me now, You'll take away the biggest part of me" as I was pushing her out.

Oh! So cute! Look at her pathetic litle cry!

My nurse Julie made a bow for her beanie!

My mommy.

Me with my favorite Jamba Juice, "Carribean Passion" courtesy of my mother in law Michelle. Life is good. I'm NOT pregnant...it's the day after and I've got Jamba Juice.

Afton's first meeting. When it was time for her to go she threw a huge fit which she doesn't usually do and cried, "I'm NOT leaving here without my baby sister!"

My daddy.

Loving my family visit and my new baby.

Evan checking out her toes.

Morning after Dad. Love that messy bed head.

Getting ready to go home.

Poor thing....she's so skinny:)

You'd think a muppet fathered this baby judging from her abundance of fuzziness. She's getting sunned at Grandma Michelle's big bay window for her jaundice.

Happy Daddy.

Jemma...toe up.

Afton slung up her baby just like mommy.

Thank you to all my friends and family who helped out. A special shout out to my mom who even broke her arm in the line of duty! Your three weeks here was pure heaven! Thanks to Grandma M who brought the mother load of paper products...I still haven't washed a cereal bowl. Thanks to Julie who came and got my kids and took them outside to play so I could breathe for a second...I wrote about the birth in my journal and read my scriptures:) Thanks to you all for the beautiful meals, blog comments, facebook notes and just calling to check on me. I love you all and can't wait to rejoin society:) Pardon any typos or statements that make no sense...I'm functioning on very little sleep and very wacked hormones.

Life Well Lived

2009-02-17T10:58:00.000-08:00

I've just been thinking lately about how full my seemingly little life is. My mood ebbs and flows like everybody's. Sometimes I think, "Man, I am so tired of everyday feeling like that movie Ground Hog Day." You know that movie with Bill Murray and he gets stuck in time and wakes up to the exact same day every morning? Ugh. Sometimes Nic asks me in the morning as I pour cereal..."How are you?" And I say "Ground Hog Day." And he just knows. Then he'll bring me icecream that night or rub lotion on my feet or something.

Anyway, I received a precious tidbit of advice from Nic's dad once. He told me no matter how many pictures you think you are taking of your family...take ten times more. I now know why he said that. As I sorted through the pictures of the last couple of months I actually got leaky eyes and was so thankful for the experiences we have together as a family. Can everyday be amazingly exciting? No. But can everyday hold a little gem of worth? Absolutely. Here are some of our experiences.

Look What Love Did!

In case you didn't know, I've been growing a kid for the last nine months. Can you believe it? A KID! That's pretty amazing. This last weekend Nic and I enjoyed a staycation courtesy of my sister and her hubby watching our kids. We went out to a decadent dinner and sipped pina colada's, ate cake and basked in the grown-upness of holding hands and not mentioning poop, spankings, or time-out for a whole two hours. Then we went rented movies and layed in bed and ate more cake. We slept in, went for a drive up to the snow, ate out again...played board games with eachother and didn't pick up or clean one single thing the whole weekend. I stepped over the same motorcycle on the floor ten times in one day and didn't care! It was the best.

I caught Nic having a private breakfast with Evan at the teeny table. Evan's little face lit up like a lamp with the personal attention.

Can I just say how smokin' gorgeous Afton thought she was this day? I couldn't stop laughing. We curled her hair for church and I let her wear some perfume and pink lipstick. Oh boy, she was a vain little thing. I love the expression on her face.

I got out of the shower and found these. Notice the mutilated de-frosted cupcakes on the left in the round pan.

Then I found these faces. I like how Evan looks like he has a handle bar moustache.

I liked this picture of Afton. It seems symbolic and it tugs at my heartstrings everytime. We went to California for a week during New Years to visit our bff's and they took us to this place called Travel Town where there are a bunch of retired trains to explore and climb on. We loved it. If you are ever near Hollywood...go.

Evan in testosterone Heaven.

Sitting by the ocean, exploring tidepools, eating Chips-Ahoy which don't even taste good unless you are camping or at the ocean. Nic found this beautiful little blue crab. We also found an octopus and starfish.

What do you get when you put five or six families together on New Year's eve...ton's of delish food and a trunk of rediculous hats? The funnest New Year's party I ever attended. I was having a lot of contractions that night so I sat on the couch in my Princess Laya buns and turban whilst listening to Nic's buddies jam out on the guitars to Johnny Cash songs and other tunes that made me shake my head and say...This is friggin' awesome.

I experimented with the Napoleon Dynamite wig and glasses before settling with the buns and turban. I believe I was impersonating Napoleon here by saying "IDIOT!"

Here's Evan and Afton getting to take some sled rides down Papa Frank's driveway over Christmas Vacay. Priceless.

So the Larkins are good. Can't wait to see this baby in my tummy.

I need attention

2009-02-03T08:59:00.000-08:00

Do you ever just wake up and think..."Dang. I need some attention." It would be the mature thing to just say so out loud, but no...I have other "ways". For instance, Nic's mom took him to a cool running store last night to buy him some new running shoes for his upcoming race in California. You need to know that Nic has some very specific pet peeves such as NEEDING to be the first one to put the spoon in a new jar of peanut butter or icecream. If you take a bite of his sandwich before he does...bad things follow. Nobody can touch his new thing before he does. So me putting on his size thirteen brand spanking new running shoes and wearing them around the house to make the beds while he was in the shower was the perfect way to get "attention". I made sure to wear no socks so the deflowering could be complete. I enjoyed the blood curdling "NOOOOO" I got when he came out of the bathroom and saw me tap dancing and doing the twist (as if that were part of my morning routine).

Another one of my "ways" stems from the mental torture his younger brother Sean used to inflict upon him. Sean was the king of being a bungholio without getting in trouble. So I employed one of his tactics while Nic was eating his cold pizza. I sat down next to him, extended my index finger and BARELY touched his bare arm. He shooed it away like a bug. Then I waited a few minutes and kept doing it again and again until I almost made him cry.

Then I followed him into the bedroom when he got dressed. I sat on the edge of the bed and waited for him to walk by me. When he did, I delicately extended my foot and totally tripped him. AT LAST! ATTENTION! If you've never seen an eight month pregnant woman get totally tackled...you should make a point to witness it. I got some hugs and squeezes and a few spanks and then Nic looked at me and said, "Do you just need some attention?"

Smile of the Mind

2009-01-21T13:12:00.000-08:00

I love when a random brief image gives me a chuckle...something you just happen to run into. This week I saw three things that just made me laugh. The first was a sixty-something flowerchild driving a hot pink Geo Tracker - the same Geo Tracker I coveted in 10th grade. She had on a fuzzy homemade beanie, and went tearing around a corner with her tie-dyed skirt slammed in her door dragging along the street. I had a good time imagining what her apartment must look like...with overgrown aloe plants, worn out futons and burning incense.

The next thing I saw just this morning. It was a burly blue collar worker drving his beat up white work truck. On the hood was super glued the exact barbie horse I had as a kid. The Palimino with blonde mane...one hoof delicately posed in a prancing position. I laughed out loud when I saw the mane magestically blowing in the wind as he barreled down Flamingo street.

Then I saw a man standing at a bus stop with a head infinitely too small for his Frankenstien-like shoulders. I was hoping it was just a poorly chosen coat with big shoulder pads.

I guess I'm not the only one who finds amusement in the ordinary...on the way to pick Afton up from preschool I hear Evan snickering in the backseat. I asked him what was so funny. He said, "Mom, look at Raisin's weener...I HAVE A WEENER LIKE THAT!"

Seafood - Me no likey

2009-01-13T07:54:00.000-08:00

Somehow...I don't know how, Nic and I are completely caught up on Maslow's heirarchy of needs which has created this happy/feisty atmosphere in the house this morning as opposed to the normal threating of the kids with maiming if they dare ask for anything as absurd as a bowl of cereal before 7 a.m.. Nic took advantage of this mood by blaring some of his favorite music...PHISH. He rarely subjects me to the torture...but he was feeling his oats today. He has a near reverent regard for this band. He was in the kitchen with this silly grin on his face, pouring raisin bran and playing air guitar as I sat on the couch involuntarily plucking my eyelashes out one by one. I have to admit though...I do get a nostalgic coma-like feeling from this music because he listened to this band daily when we were dating and I was so crazy-go-nuts in love with him that I probably would have eaten a dead elephant foot if he offered it to me - and enjoyed it. And there are the occasional bursts of quirky lyrics that are hard to resist...something about "Give the director a serpent detector, a molerat deflector, a rivet reflector, a cushion confector, a hormone collector, a picture of nectar..." It's hard not to enjoy that...it's like hating Shel Silverstien...not possible.

Anyway...I thought a few bites of icecream might help get me through this morning ...and as I pried the shrink wrap off of the carton, Nic remarked through a mouthful of cereal, "Isn't it a little early to be hitting the sauce?" To which I replied with one small glance which communicated a thousand words such as, "I am eight months pregnant wearing a pink flowered moo-moo because that is all I can sausage my body into and even though I just ate an orange and a plate of tuna casserole I will now eat some icecream if I dang well feel like it. And each bite will increase my virtue and beauty." And because we are basking in this twilight zone of unnatural contentment on this rare morning...I think he believed me.

Dog Funeral

2008-12-19T10:59:00.000-08:00

Do you think it would disrupt the Christmas chi in my house if I caused actual death to my dog? Like, cut his scrawny little body into pieces and feed it to the alligators type thing? RAISIN IS DRIVING ME NUTS! He peed on my Christmas tree. Not only did he whiz on my ornaments, lights and actual tree (how on earth do you clean 5ooo little fake needles whilst they are connected to 1000 lights?), but he peed on my beautifully wrapped gifts and my tree skirt! And it wasn't just any tree skirt, it was a gorgeous beaded, Martha Stewart number I fell in love with and coughed up 25 bucks for because it was just that awesome. I saw in in a KMart ad...and honestly, who goes to KMart anymore? I don't, it's like the twilight zone in there...deserted, outdated and it smells like the seventies. But, I drug both my kids out in the night and drove all the way to Henderson to get the thing...so I must have really liked it! The care instructions specifically say to not get it wet, so that would rule out peeing on it and washing it. DEEEEP LOOOONG Breath. I always wrap the fancy packages first because they look good under the tree...you know the ones that you buy the gorgeous foil paper and special ribbon for? Yeah, he peed on those.

One of the hardest things about being pregnant for me is that I lose my sensible normal self. I cry over the weirdest stuff. Nic was getting ready for work and stopped ironing his shirt to come over and put his arm around me while I knelt before my newly spinkled Christmas tree and cried like I was five years old. PSYCHO! I know! I hate it, but truly can't help it. He's the best husband. After the crazy lady hormones retreated back in their cave, I stopped to think about there are much worse things going on in the world than my peed on christmas tree. I had a great day just laughing at my kids. Afton even drew me a picture of a new "christmas carpet" (tree skirt) to make me feel better. Poor kid! My favorite cute moment of the day was Afton and Evan fighting over the bandaid in the doctor kit. Evan chased her around saying, "AH-TON! DIMMIE DAT DAMBAID! I'm so grateful for my cute family that puts up with me so willingly. And if you made it to the end of this post....thankful for you too. Merry Christmas and pray for Raisin's life...I still haven't made up my mind about his fate.

Phew!

2008-12-11T10:05:00.000-08:00

Christmas time can be so fun, yet so crazy! I constantly find myself bouncing between periods of stess and bilss. There are so many activities to participate in and when I get behind in my organization I get overwhwhelmed! But I love, love, love melting into my couch every night after the kids are in bed and looking at my Christmas tree. (Usually playing with Nic's hair as he snores in my lap.) So here's what's been going on.

Daddy Daughter Date - Fun carefree time
Nic has decided on his own that he wants to take the kids on dates. This is him and Afton rollerskating at Crystal Palace. He said he really felt the rightness of having alone time with the kids confirmed to him as he sat and chatted with Afton at Burger king afterwards. He asked her about preschool, her friends, etc...and she glowed with all of the attention. So cute.

Sweaty Santa
Nic got this random urge to particiapte in the Santa Run. He along with 8 or 9 thousand other Santas ran a 5K to raise money for opportunity villiage. He is so random sometimes. But I loved him coming home in this get-up. He had the time of his life.

Trying to get a dang photo for Christmas cards!! - Not so blissful part of Christmas

Let me tell you how this night went. We were late for the ward Christmas party. I suddenly realized I did not own even one pair of pants that would fit over my bump that were not grease stained sweats or gaucho pants. So I was wearing my pre-pregnancy slacks -totally unzipped hoping they wouldn't a.) fall off in the buffet line or b.) look all lumpy in the Christmas photo. Nic had made this amazing camera stand with books, a highchair and a small table to perch the camera on so we could use the timer. And to top it all off, Afton and her interesting posing skills, which I have mentioned before, made getting a good shot nearly impossible. I assure you, what follows is a very small sampling of her creative interpretation of "say cheese".

The Mackays dropped by- Great part of the Holidays
Our beloved bff's from California stopped by and lit up our life with this giant trout pillow. It just tickled my funny bone. I nearly wet myself. Evan would stroke him, tuck him into bed, ride him like a bronco...I couldn't get enough of this darn fish.

This isn't Christmas related, but Evan had his second birthday and was thrilled with his motorcyle that said, "Ninja wheelie time!!!! SCREECH..PEEL OUT NOISE..." Mom was not so thrilled with that sound after hearing it all day, but whatever.

Okay fine, this also has nothing to do with Christmas, but OH MY GOSH! I had the bomb twilight party! Thanks to every fanatical friend that attended. We had the most delicious spread of vampire inspired food, over 20 women and the best time I have had in forever. We had way more fun than this picture portrays. Apparently I am the master at capturing people at the most awkward or rediculous moment.

Sigh.....Look, even my sister in the background is enjoying watching me kiss Edward...he's that cute!

Good Question

2008-12-02T14:22:00.000-08:00

You never know the thoughts that may be going on in a four year-old's mind. We were driving back from the pediatritian and Afton said, "Cool."

"What's cool?" I said.

"We never have to die when we are "ress-rected"", Afton said.

"Yeah. That's true." I said.

Then she said, "How do you get to heaven? Do you ride up on a bed or does Heavenly Father come down and pick you up?"

I had a good laugh trying to imagine some cloud covered taxi or bed knobs and broom sticks scenario. She's such a cute little thing.

Money coming out the .....

2008-11-20T09:21:00.000-08:00

I always giggle when I ask Nic for money. I handle the finances and if you asked Nic he probably doesn't even know how much he makes on any given payday. I never carry cash. He does. He has a special relationship with his new money clip. He doesn't really care about things, but man he loves this money clip. But I digress...

Because I never carry cash, occasionally I have to roll Nic for some. It feels so cute, it makes me feel like a little girl to ask him for money...kind of taken care of or something...sort of sugardaddied. Anyway, he gave me a 20.00 bill this morning. I was positive I left it on the couch after family prayer. He went to work and I spent a good ten minutes looking for it to no avail.

Guess where I finally found it? Inside Evan's diaper. Nic hid it there. I'm not sure the message I'm supposed to take from that.

Blogger Ninja!

2008-11-15T13:13:00.000-08:00

I am the blogger ninja. My indian name is "duped Angie into marrying me". As blogger ninja, I slink around her posts, adding tidbits and insights with ninja speed and ninja precision.

This attack has to do with the total awesomeness of my wife. She made this great invitation:

She is amazingly creative...and sincere. She asked me "are you going to feel wierd about me publishing a picture of me slinking around the naked, svelte body of some super-hunk?" and I said "No! anyone who knows us, knows I look exactly like that. No worries!" So she's sensitive too.

The Ninja also declares that Angie's new hair cut is totally awesome. Her eyes are the most beautiful things I've ever seen, and she is a naturally hot pregnant babe, even without trying. It's hard to keep my ninja mind on ninja thoughts when I'm around her.

Her ninja husband makes close to no ninja dollars and works like a ninja dog about 12 hours a day. This means that Angie runs a whole household, takes care of my 2-1/2 ninja children, all without help and without any money. We eat like kings, not because we buy expensive food, but because she can magically whip four basic, left-over ingredients into endless nights of fancifal feasts.

She is modest, so when she sees my ninja post, she will first be embarrased, then giggle, then try to remove it unless we kep commenting to have her keep it up.

"Duped Angie into marying me" ninja loves his ninja wife.....and what?...uh huh...well yes President Washington, I'm pretty fond of you too.

Sub-par summary

2008-11-12T00:47:00.000-08:00

Man! I can't take it anymore! I'm up late making invitations for my twilight party and my lack of blogging lately has finally overidden good sense and at 1:15 am I am making a post. Phew... Now mind you, this is a rediculous pictoral summary that in no way sufficiently chronicles the adventures of the last month...but here are some little bits.

I got a new haircut that you can't really see in this picture, but I was feeling cute today so I took a picture of all of us to commemorate my great self esteem.

Here's Mr. Turkey, our paper plate friend.

This is my house and Evan after our Disneyland Vacay.

This is how Afton feels about the beach.

She also feels like this.

My honies.

Our last day at our heavenly hotel. Sigh. You can tell our smiles are fake. When we picked up our car I had to physically make Nic drive away from the Hotel and off Disney property. He was more depressed than me!

Me and Afton in front of Bear Rapids. My bump groweth.

Afton enjoying the fruits of Disneyland.

The train ride at D.L.

I find my husband's hairline sexy for some reason. This photo shows how cool his hair grows.

Aftonrella.

Evan making his pirate hook.

And finally, I was tagged to share five wierd things about me or my family:

1. Nic would kill me...but I happen to know he has imaginary conversations with famous people from history such as Brigham Young (taking him for a car ride through the desert and explaining modern science to him). The other day I heard him talking to George Washington in the shower. I called him on it. He was so busted.

2. I'm a taco rebel. I always put unexpected things on my taco like celery, pineapple, spinach etc. I'm bored of the lettuce tomato thing.

3. I get a narcotic high from putting up Christmas decorations.

4. I fill the pit hole of avacados with ketchup and eat the whole thing.

5. When Afton gets really excited about something, she grabs her butt cheeks and runs around in circles.

I tag my Cali friends Melissa, Kim and Evan.

Phew....I posted. Blood pressure returning to normal....ahh...gotta go to bed.

I think I'll move to Australia

2008-10-23T14:53:00.000-07:00

I remember sitting and listening to my elementary school librarian Mrs. Snedden read to my class "Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day". I loved that chubby little Asian woman. And I loved that book. Fun to read. Not fun when your day actually goes like that. Not even my day...just my park outing. I am a firm believer in looking on the bright side and not dwelling on the negative, but sometimes the negative is downright comical!

So we went to the park after preschool. I made a special point to ask Afton if she needed the bathroom before we hiked on to the playground. Of course she didn't. We get to the playground. Afton starts walking around with her knees together and her butt poking out. She needed the bathroom. So we did our business in those disgusting park bathrooms...washed hands...purelled for good measure....went back to the park. No less than five minutes later...Afton is doing the weird chicken dance again. We hike all the way back to the bathroom which had wet mystery puddles all over the floor that smelled...and she had well....deposited a special nugget in her Minnie mouse panties. Great! So I squatted down to help get her undressed and my pants split from stem to stern.

I think if I weren't such a germophobe my life would be much less dramatic. Trying to undress Afton without her feet touching the wet smelly floor almost put me into a full out panic attack! So while I am squatting in my newly drafty pants trying to get her pants back on her Evan decides to go ape crap and run at me full speed for a linebacker style tackle. Ahhh!!! People falling over in smelly puddles....undisinfected poop hands....Evan rolling around on the aforementioned floor...Ahhh!! That is IT! SOMEBODY'S GETTING A SPANKING!

Calming myself...pulling up pants...washing hands....re-purelling...ahh....I love the antiseptic smell of alcohol....

We hike back to the playground. Evan says, "Mommy I poopy". Huff. Okay, he's a baby, he can't control his pooping times. He can't help it that we have been at the park for 30 minutes and only five of those minutes haven't included cleaning someones hiney. So we find a bench to change and he goes nuts because the sun is in his eyes...starts screaming and kicking which causes untold cups of sand trapped in the folds of his pants to sprinkle out and stick to his butt....that makes him scream even louder because it is scratchy when I wipe him...my head is killing me...Afton is saying..."Mommy, are you mad? Is this a bad day?"

Yes Afton. This is kind of a bad day. So apologies had to be made for my ranting...hugs given...a little prayer offered to help me be better at keeping it together...Phew. I'm exhausted. Luckily my kids are quick to forgive and I had three bites of Ben and Jerry's Pumpkin Cheesecake left in the freezer when I got home. But I'm still wearing my ripped pants.

Shut your Pie Hole!

2008-10-11T08:34:00.000-07:00

I had an interesting experience today. I usually don't share my personal religious feelings on my blog...I keep it kinda light...but I know I have a lot of mommy friends that blog with me and I think this applies to our lives. It's early Saturday morning and I just finished up preparing my lesson for Sunday school tomorrow. It was about looking forward to Christ's second coming and remaining strong in the face of fear and temptation. One of the main points the lesson made was that as we strive to to what's right Satan increases his forces upon us.

Well, this morning I tried to do what was right. I passed on wasting the morning on a t.v. show I know wouldn't spiritually help me. I prayed before my lesson. I felt the spirit as I prepared and really got excited about sharing my testimony of those principles in my class tomorrow. I ended my lesson with a prayer and thanked Heavenly Father for helping me feel so darn excited about the scriptures...that's a hard thing for me so I was extra grateful. Here's where it gets weird.

I don't pretend to understand how Satan operates. I don't know logistically how his ideas end up in our heads or exactly how he tempts us. But I'll tell you what I do know and what happened this morning. I came out of my bedroom feeling on top of the world, ready to tackle my shopping list and clip coupons and really get my stuff in order for the Sabbath and to have a great day with my family. I sat down to eat my delicious breakfast tacos and these are the sentences that entered my head.

"YOU HAVE NO CALL TO BE HAPPY. YOU ARE A SLAVE TO YOUR FAMILY AND SHOPPING FOR THEM AND CLEANING THE HOUSE IS MEANINGLESS. YOU ARE STUPID TO BE EXCITED FOR YOUR DAY BECAUSE THERE IS SO MUCH MORE OUT THERE TO MAKE YOU HAPPY."

I just want to tell you how blown away I was by those thoughts. I clearly know they were not mine. They were the total opposite to what I was feeling just seconds before and though I don't know exactly how Satan works...I know those were his ideas and not mine. So I told him to SHUT HIS PIE HOLE!

Even as I write this I feel the confirmation that what I am saying is true. I love being a mother and a wife and I just want to say that it is worth it and that keeping a home and feeding and nurturing my family is an errand from God. That's all. Thanks for listening.

My sous chefs

2008-10-09T14:42:00.001-07:00

Nic came home the other day and payed me the sweetest compliments for letting the kids cook with me. Although it's messy, it takes longer and it's not convenient.... He thanked me for creating happy memories for the kids. The little stinkers always find their way into the kitchen and here's some photos of what we've cooked together lately.
Evan Mutilating some snow peas for the stir fry

Peeling peaches from my parent's ranch for Pablo Peach Pie!

Making pizza dough

Bean Salad

BBQ Kabobs

And for those of you tisk tisking...wondering if I ever clothe my children, I swear I do, they just end up like that somehow!

Doggy Bags

2008-10-07T10:06:00.000-07:00

Do you know why I love my husband? He brings me doggy bags. Every once in a while he gets to go out to a mega-swanky dinner for his work. Since the first one a year and a half ago he has never failed to bring me a doggy bag. It's a big deal to him. At this time in our lives we rarely go out for that kind of meal...spending two weeks grocery money in one night type thing...and I think he feels guilty that I'm home with the kids while he dines with adults. While I'm giving night time baths, some tuxedoed dude is turning on the water in the men's room so he can wash fillet Mignon grease from his fingertips. He wishes I could be there to experience it with him, so...

He eats exactly half of his meal. Last night he brought me two jumbo prawns, half of a lobster tail, half of a fillet Mignon, half a scoop of potatoes, and half of a slice of strawberry cheesecake. My doggy bags always come beautifully presented in fancy packaging and he will sit with me on the couch and describe how everything tasted when it was served and how it was presented. He will tell me what the dinner conversation was and what the restaurant looked like inside. He described how the waiters were dressed and even how the alcohol smelled that was served to some of the people.

This morning I heated up my fillet in the oven, shared my potatoes with Evan and enjoyed my cheesecake. (I was freaked out about eating day old seafood...so with much regret I tossed the prawns and lobster tail...is that just an urban legend or does seafood not keep overnight?) Nic teased me about being an uncultured sloth because I speared the whole hunk of meat with a fork and dipped it in KC masterpiece BBQ sauce. But then he laughed and said, "It's your present, eat it how you want."

Thank you honey for doing the little things that mean so much. I love you.

The Wrath of G Snizzle

2008-10-01T13:55:00.000-07:00

One of my defining characteristics is that I like to call people on their crappy behavior and make them pay. Not in a petty fault finding way...more like a "you are majorly contributing to the rotting of this nation's moral fiber" way. It's not unusual for me to march over to the park and scold a bunch of potheads for smokin' a fatty in broad daylight or yell out the window to porn peddlers "YOU CAN DO SO MUCH MORE WITH YOUR LIFE THAN THAT!" Stuff like that. Nic is always telling me to cool it before I get myself hurt. Well, I just about did yesterday.

I was driving on the freeway to pick up Afton from preschool. Enter one shiny new Cadillac inches from my bumper even though I was going 5 miles over the speed limit. I tapped my breaks to say, "back off butt sniffer". I do that all the time and it usually sends the message. Well, this person whizzed around me and slammed on his breaks. I honked and thought, what a jerk. So I try to merge right to move closer to my exit. Butt sniffer merges to block me and slams on breaks again. With much effort and dangerous maneuvering at rediculously slow speeds, I finally make it to my exit and guess who whizzed in front of me again. I am now at a stop light with said butt sniffer right in front of me. I didn't think much of it until the door opened and out comes G-Snizzle the silver toof wizzle complete with nappy corn rows and prison tats on his face and neck charging my car. Um, crap.

G Snizzle: Yeah B----, you f----- messed with the wrong mutha ------. (I'll spare you the exact dialogue, but suffice it to say it was the most creative convergence of the B, F, and A words I have ever heard).

At this point I think I'm in shock cuz I rolled down my window and said, "Oh what? Are you going to beat up a mom with a baby in the back seat?"

G Snizzle: You beep beep ba bleepity bleep, I'm gonna bleep you up bleep bleep!

Then G Snizzle reaches into my car and snatches an envelope full of cash meant to pay for Afton's preschool tuition for the next month. He rips it open, triumphantly holds the cash up and says, "Yeah beep, See what you got yourself in to?" He then marched back to his car.

Me: I'm calling the police right now! (But of course his car has no license plate)

This is the biggest miracle ever, then he marches back to my car, I am thinking he probably went and got his gun, then throws the cash back in my face and says, the only reason I'm not going to bleep you up is cuz of that (gesturing to Evan in the back seat). Then he got in his car, crossed four lanes of traffic and got back on the freeway.

Yeah, I could have died. I am so grateful for two things. First, that Evan and I are okay. Second, I came a breath away that very morning to stuffing that envelope with the entire year's tuition full of cash. I doubt he would have given it back if he would have scored that wad.

So for the rest of the day, I was seriously post traumatic stressin'. But I had a great ray of sunshine at the end of the day, the ultrasound I was scheduled for showed I am having a girl! Woo-hoo! What a day.

A Diva Amongst Us

2008-09-19T21:21:00.000-07:00

I always think it's funny to see what songs Nic and I listen to that the kids take a liking to. Lately Afton has become attatched to "Bleeding Love". I had to capture her sweet karakoke skills. Kid videos are never as cute to everyone else as they are to the parents, but it's only 45 seconds long and the hip action at the end really sweetens the deal. WORK IT GIRL!

Sometimes Happiness is Cheap!

2008-09-16T15:36:00.000-07:00

I'm no good at formatting my blogs, this picture belongs at the very end of the post...I don't know how to move it, so just ignore it til you get to the end of the post! Lame. Sorry.

Super cute Gap embroidered jeans and Gymboree sweater! Weeeee....

The other night I had Sunday dinner over at my place. I was worried about it being too crowded with everyone over. But you know, we found the opposite to be true, we sat around my couch like we were sitting around a camp fire and I can't remember the last time we all talked as a family like that. Sometimes love grows in small spaces:) Plus, we had big pans of gooey chicken Parmesan, pene with broccoli, garlic and Parmesan, home made bread sticks and banana splits. What a perfectly cozy, delicious evening.

Okay, now for my thrift store bonanza! I went to two of my favorite second hand clothing stores today to get some winter clothes for the kids...yes it is still 100 degrees outside, but you who know me know I just can't wait for the next thing! So here is my bounty. Let me describe specifically my satisfaction.
I found good quality brands such as H&M, Gap, Gymboree, Yes, Arizona, Sprockets, Nike, all in great condition, some never even used. I got:
Six pairs of jeans
1 dress
1 sweater
3 pairs of pj's
7 long sleeved shirts
1 pair of cords
2 cool big toy cars
1 adorable winter coat
1 skirt
--------------------------------Cost: 100.00

Cute shirts for Evan

Awesome Old Navy heavy duty lined coat for Evan...for five bucks! Yippee!

Little Bits

2008-09-15T11:49:00.000-07:00

Yeast and I don't get along. I am yeast impaired. So one day when I made rolls and let them rise all day in a perfectly warm kitchen ...covered in saran wrap....and heard a strange puncturing sound...and then saw Evan with these scissors....I was upset to find the result. Yeast hates me....even when it isn't my fault. Evil little Evan.

I felt so good one morning, I made breakfast for the first time in literally months. It felt good to eat real food. I wish I could eat this every day. Eggs, pepper jack and mango salsa on whole wheat, a slab of homemade peach cobbler, and blueberries. Ahhh....food, how I have missed you.

Afton has interesting posing skills. I never know what I'm going to get when I ask her to simply smile. Each of these poses were very deliberate and could not be negotiated no matter how hard I tried. There were more, but they only get weirder. These were the most normal.Hmm... What else is going on? Oh I discovered that the McDonald's hash browns my kids love also have other charms for Evan. He eats the wrapper right along with the hashbrown. Like a luscious little garnish. Afton brought my attention to that fact, I wonder how many he has eaten?

That's all for now, I have so much to blog I want to catch my computer on fire just to relieve me of the stress! Love you guys!

Tales from the Crypt

2008-08-19T23:17:00.000-07:00

Well guys, It's been a while eh? Here's the deal in a nutshell. I felt mega-nauseated on a wednesday afternoon, sat on my couch and cried because I couldn't bring myself to cook the hamburger and onions for the spaghetti my kids were screaming for, called my friend Ashley to come over and cook it for me and then I realized, What in the heck am I going to do? So my dear husband sent me to my mom's house in the middle of Nevada for the last 5 weeks where I rotted in the living room recliner while my angel of a mother took care of my kids and me.

So now I'm 11 weeks pregnant and doing much better. I'm still kind of couch-bound, but at least I can eat and sleep now. If only I could poo. Too much info? Sorry. I just don't have a lot more going on other than that.

So anyway, I'm so glad to be home in my own house, see my husband every day and not feel so lonely and isolated. I wanted to thank everyone who helped me with my kids, sent me notes, called and lots of other thoughtful things that helped out so much.

I can't wait to get blogging again with actual life experiences and photos! It may be a few weeks til I have it in me, but I just wanted to say hi to my friends and post at least something! See you soon.

Gag me with a yogurt taco...or pregnancy will do it too

2008-07-08T22:42:00.000-07:00

If you are wondering, "gag me with a yogurt taco" was one of my favorite valley girl sayings from the 80's.

Yick. Bleck. I feel sick! I am so afraid I am going to get as big as a house because the only thing that seems to keep my nausea at bay is to constantly feed my face. My sister lived an entire pregnancy on Werthers Originals and Rootbeer. The only thing that sounds good to me are chipotle steak burritos. Yeah, that's gonna get pricey. Every time I think about the sensation in my throat I mentally say the word "keck". I think that may be a barfing sound effect...I'm not sure.

Anyway, random stuff is starting to gross me out. I am going to start an official pregnancy gag list on my sidebar. I'll update it as need be.

So ladies, what made you gag during your pregnancies?

Summer Vacation

2008-07-08T07:26:00.000-07:00

When I stood on a cliff looking over this view I felt my ribs unzip and my heart practically float away.

We're finally home from our summertime escapades. We've been gone for almost two weeks and had such a good time getting out of the city and back to nature. We went camping with Nic's clan in Duck Creek Utah first and then came home for one day...shook the dirt out of our shoes, washed the clothes and took off to do the whole small town fourth of July thing with my family back home at Pablo Canyon. I wanted to share some of the pictures.

Pablo Canyon

One of the main events back home is to load everyone up in a 4-Wheel drive vehicle and bounce up to Birch Creek where we have a cook-out and let the kids play in the creek. Then we drive all the way to the top of the mountain and go down the other side to Austin to play at the park, swim and eat at the Toiyabe Drive in Frosty.

Afton and Evan at Birch Creek

Evan sporting his new sheriff hat

Afton at Birch Creek cook out

Here's a video of our fist night at Pablo Canyon. This is the ranch where my parents live and Nic and I stayed in one of the empty rental trailers in the main yard. Everyone showed up to have a true country ho-down. We had a great time cooking up a big bunch of cowboy beans, corn on the cob and staying up late to tell ghost stories. Even Afton and her cousin Ellie got in on the action!

MMM!!! One of my favorite back home meals...there's a cup of brown sugar in those bad boys!

My dad Frank and Nic at the very top of Birch Creek canyon. You can't really see that well because there was a haze from the California wildfires, but we were so high and could see for a hundred miles in every direction. It was windy and exhillerating up there!

My mom Sandy taking the kids for a quad ride up pablo road. Evan cared more about the motorcycles than eating. We had a scary moment when we lost him for about 15 minutes and we found he had wandered up the ranch and found a riding lawn-mower to "drive".

Here's the sweet 10 ft wide trailer Nic and I stayed in. The porch also doubled for our talent show stage. This is my dad telling red neck jokes. Ashley Stout and I performed a Tahitian hula and can I just say how completely heart-broken I am that my hubby didn't get it on video!? In case you don't know, one of my items on my life checklist was to learn and perform a real hula. Humph. Sigh. So sad. I am praying Ashley will put it on her blog. Nic played the guitar and we sang Allison Krauss's "You Say it Best When You Say Nothing At All". Afton did princess dancing with her cousins.

I love this uncertain expression on Afton' face as she greeted a surprise visitor.

Duck Creek

The Larkin crew including Papa Larkin

My favorite activity of the whole Duck Creek trip was our family hike to Cascade Waterfall. It was the perfect hike. Not to long for little kids, yet still makes you sweat...breathtaking views (the first picture on this post was during that hike), varied landscape, not all uphill, and an awesome destination. It was the perfect family hike and I want to do it every year now.

Cascade Waterfall...Nic and Evan testing the waters

Afton on her first real hike.

Local Wildlife

Can you say Velveeta CHEESE?!

Phew...this whole vacation has been so fun, but also so exhausting because Evan had diahreah (cha cha cha) the entire ten days and...I'm Pregnant!

Black holes, The Bermuda Triangle, and Me

2008-06-23T08:28:00.000-07:00

On Saturday night I went shopping at Superwalmart. I knew it was going to be one of those nights because when I went to open my car door it shocked the co-co puffs out of me. Sometimes the universe aligns in some bizarre way in which I get schocked by just about anything. When I got to Walmart I put my keys in my purse which also created an electrical shock. By this time I am gun-shy. I go to get my cart and I sort of slapped the handle first to test it out and of course it shocked me. A painful one too! I then got shocked on the dairy case handle (twice) and then on a can of tuna. WHY?

So I made my way to the produce section sort of relieved I was done buying stuff involving metal only to realize every time I let go of the shopping cart it would shock me again when I touched it to move somewhere else! Then the weirdest thing happened. I GOT SHOCKED BY A GALL DANG AVOCADO! An avocado people! Since when have avocados been superconductors of electricity? At this point I can't help at least wonder if God is just messin' with me.

God: Pssst...Saint Peter..leave the pearly gate duty to someone else and come check this out.

St. Peter: Who's that girl?

God: That's Angie Larkin. And that my friend is a mountain of avocados in which I have added 5000 volts of electricity to every single one.

St. Peter: Hee Hee.

God: And guess who has "guacamole fixins" on her shopping list?

St. Peter: This oughtta be good.

Okay...I know my shocking problem isn't God's fault, but it does sort of...oh I don't know...defy every natural law I've ever heard of. It is a unique feeling to be scared of an avocado. So you just remember that next time you are in the produce section of Walmart.

Older than Dirt

2008-06-21T15:53:00.001-07:00

My baby turned 30 yesterday! 30 feels so old and I would continue to make fun of him and his AARP magazines that are sure to arrive in the mail any day, but I'm older than he so I'll shut up now. But the upside of turning into a geezer is that you get cool things done for you!

I dropped the kids off at my sister's and then picked up Nic from work. Just walking in that place stresses me out...I love him for doing a scary job everyday. Then we went to a bakery to get this ridiculously tasty vanilla bean lemonade. There were whole beans floating around in the lemonade bucket and little black specks stuck to the Styrofoam cup. Yum. Nic was so cute, he took me there to just show me snippets of his life. Then he wanted to take me to this hilarious hotel that he had a networking thing at. It was so ridiculously creepy! If vampires ever vacation in Vegas they stay at the Artisan hotel. Black walls and ceilings, leopard carpet, goth furniture, paintings on the ceilings, candles, heavy curtains, suits of armor...So creepy. I laughed because on one of the big book shelves in the lobby there was a big red book called "Sweet Torrid Surrender" next to a book called "Entertaining with Regis and Kathy Lee". I guess even vampires throw dinner parties.

Then we went to Town Square for some shopping, dinner and a movie. We saw Get Smart which nearly made me wet myself. I highly recommend it. The kids stayed at my sisters for the night and we got to go home and have run of the house...so nice for a change!

Happy Birthday my sweetheart.

Your Mom.

2008-06-20T09:21:00.000-07:00

Nic and I are big on your mama jokes. They have become the response for just about everything.
Nic: Hey babe? Can you wash some shirts for me?
Me: Your mom.

Me: Sweetie, can you fix that broken light switch before the weekend is over?
Nic: Your mom fixes light switches.

Me: Can you move your smelly feet away from my face?
Nic: Your mom has smelly feet.

Etc...Etc...

A couple of weeks ago Nic asked me to do something to which I replied "your mom" forgetting his mom was in the next room until I heard her say..."HEY!"

So Afton must have picked up on this playful banter as this morning she asked me to do something to which I relplied, "your mom". She looked at me and totally one upped me in Sunbeam style by saying "YOUR mom drinks coffee!"

If you aren't Mormon...sorry, this won't be funny to you. But suffice it to say, that mama joke is about as dastardly as a four year old Mormon girl can get.

Tuesday Tidbits

2008-06-17T19:32:00.000-07:00

The older I get, the more I'm starting to learn how to appreciate small moments that make me chuckle. Little moments to celebrate. I celebrate this fantastic storytime craft we made at the Library today. I also celebrate the fact that Afton asked for and actually ate spinach and raspberry vinaigrette for snack. All in all... a pretty good day.

Ninjas, among other things

2008-06-12T14:44:00.000-07:00

Schizpophrenia

2008-06-11T11:53:00.000-07:00

I used to babysit my nephew Zac. At that time there was nothing more in life he wanted that to pretend he was Rudolph and I was Santa. I can't tell you how many Rudolph noses I painted on him with a red marker and how many times I galloped around the living room saying, "Okay Rudolph, shine up your nose!" while we flew around in our imaginary sleigh. I only babysat and I often felt so sorry for my sister who I know was sick, sick, sick of playing that day after day. Well, now I have my own four year old.

What is it about this age? Afton can't be content with me being just mom! I already told you about my new life as Phantom of the Opera. Now she wants me to be the goblin king from Labrynth. If I dare address her as anyone but "Sara" or "Christine" she says...."MOM! You are not my mom you are the Goblin King!" I feel slightly schitzo. I'm a little worried about this obsession she has with bad boys...

Wake up and smell the... oh, nevermind.

2008-06-06T08:14:00.000-07:00

There's this show called "So You Think You Can Dance" that Nic and I love. It kept us up til midnight last night so when I finally went to bed I slept so deeply that I don't remember waking up even once, which is a miracle in my house. So this morning I was in the middle of this incredibly realistic dream in which I had lied to a salon in Tonopah saying I had been to beauty school. I was about to perform my first fraudulent haircut on a red headed woman. I was washing her hair with bath and body works hand soap...hoping she wouldn't notice I wasn't using shampoo when in the nebulous backround of my conciousness I heard a faint little voice saying, "poooooooop...poooooop." Then it got louder. Pooooooooooop. Pooooooooooooooooooop!. POOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP!!!!!!!! I finally woke up totally confused as to why I was no longer in the salon. I stumbled into the nursery and there was Evan standing in his crib. Then, so sheepishly as if he were a blushing belle on a Georgian plantation, he delicately pointed to his diaper and cooed, "poop." So we took care of that business...brought him in bed to nurse praying he would go back to sleep. Then in comes Afton saying, "THERE'S AN EMERGENCY!" Nic sproinged out of bed still totally asleep like a rattle snake that has had it's head already cut off but still tries to strike. Afton pulls him into the kitchen and I hear a little moan. I refuse to open my eyes and am just glad it wasn't me in the kitchen addressing "the emergency". Then Afton comes in to my room and says, "Raisin just pooed the hugest, hugest poop right under Evan's booster chair." Needless to say, I've had better mornings, but I love my husband. He didn't even call for backup and I got a few more minutes of stinkin' sleep.

Princess Palooza

2008-06-02T00:19:00.000-07:00

Afton's cousin Ellie turned 3 and had a princess party to end all. I wanted to share a few of the cute pictures. Highlites from the party include: A real hairdresser (Denise whom I love) came and did princess do's for all of the girls. Afton requested "a big ballerina bun". My nephew Zac and his cohort Peyton crashed the party by dressing up in princess garb. Afton blew out Ellie's candles for her. And I ate more Totino's pizza bites than any human being ever should. I had heartburn for two days. We had a blast. I love getting together with a bunch of women who think their kid is the cutest thing ever. Don't we all think that?

AFTON GETTING HER 'DO DONE

THE FINISHED PRODUCT

THE SPREAD

THE PARTY CRASHERS

THE BIRTHDAY GIRL

The Golden Gate Bridge

2008-05-30T20:19:00.000-07:00

When people visit my house I often get the comment, "Oh, wow, you guys don't have a diswasher." To which my husband loves to reply, "Sure we do, she's right there." He then points at me or jabs me in the ribs. I know, charming right?

Well at the end of this day I surveyed the kitchen and wondered, did I really dirty this many dishes in one day? Is it possible? When I woke up this morning there was one bowl and one spoon in the sink. Right now there are:
4 mixing bowls
2 cookie pans
4 dinner plates
1 pitcher
1 pot
1 frying pan and lid
4 tumblers
4 sippy cups
5 large spoons
2 graters
1 can opener
6 cereal bowls
1 strainer
2 tupperware bowls
2 measuring spoons
10 forks
2 pairs scissors
8 spoons
4 butter knives
2 steak knives
1 cleaver
1 cutting board
1 mug

Somtimes I wonder if from now on we can live on dry cheerios served on a napkin.

My sister once told me that the painters of the golden gate bridge never take a day off. They start at one end and when they reach the other end it is time to start painting the first end again. In other words, it is never, ever, ever, (did I mention ever?) done.

Deep down I know it's worth it. The kids ate pancakes and stirfry and tuna sandwiches and all kinds of other good stuff today. Even as I speak I hear Evan saying "nummy" because he's in the middle of a gooey chocolate chip cookie. But I think tonight I'm going to hand my paintbrush to my husband.

Phantom of the Cow Poo

2008-05-21T17:26:00.000-07:00

Today was a day of fun landmarks. First of all, Evan said his first prayer at dinner tonight. You will need to know that he says "cow poo" when he is trying to say "thank you". So here was his prayer:
Cow Poo. Amen.
I'm sure God gets all kinds of prayers, but this was probably today's cutest. In the whole world.

In other news, Afton has inexplicably become obsessed with Phantom of the Opera. I know. She has been pretending I am the phantom for three days. She only eats if Phantom cooked it, asks me to wear our couch blanket for my evil phantom cloak, and periodically caresses my face whilst saying, "It's okay Phantom, I can love you and Raul even though your face is hideous." She is even learning the lyrics to her favorite scenes. This clip is from when the Phantom appears behind the mirror in Christine's dressing room. Afton sings Christine's response:

Sometimes I dream about the things I would be doing if I weren't a mom. But I think I can safely say, I couldn't dream up stuff as fun as this day no matter how hard I tried. Viva la mommyhood.

Pick your Battles

2008-05-19T12:03:00.001-07:00

I like things done my way. I just do. Nic and I argued about the temperature the dishes should be rinsed in for the first two years of our marriage. He said it doesn't matter...I insisted it should be flesh-melting hot. We've compromised. We use really, really warm water now.

Anyway, Afton was cleaning up a big dominoes mess. I wanted her to hurry so I could go put Evan down for a nap. She insisted on cleaning them up by stuffing as many dominoes as possible into her mouth, crawling over to the box and offloading. Annoying that she wouldn't do it my way. Then I realized...she's cleaning isn't she? So it felt good to enjoy the moment, take a picture and laugh about it. I'll Lysol the dominoes later.

Man vs Nature

2008-05-15T09:37:00.000-07:00

A couple of years ago my neighbor who is disabled, unexpectedly died in his condo and nobody knew for a few days. How's that for a cheerful post eh? Anyway, a few days after he died I caught two bored boys kicking the crud out of the cactus outside my neighbor's house. They had completely destroyed it and huge hunks of the plant were strewn everywhere. It was a mammoth cactus that I'm sure took at least a decade to grow that big. I was so sad. I made those boys pick up every piece with their bare hands and throw it in the dumpster or else I would drag them over to their mom's house by their neck hair and tell on them. They did it...(moaning and wincing all the way). But the mangled stump has been a sad little sight for the last two years.

Well...NOT ANYMORE!! I just noticed that spring has kissed that cactus with a breath of life and it is budding out like crazy! It even is full of blossoms that I have never seen in the seven years I've lived here. There was also a bee on that blossom enjoying the new growth. Hooray for life's little victories!

Best Moms I Know

2008-05-10T23:18:00.000-07:00

It's 11:19 p.m. and I'm feeling sentimental. I was thinking about mother's day and about all of the moms I know. I think as a community of moms we learn a lot from eachother. I wanted to let all of you moms know what I have learned from you.

First of all MY mom (of course!)
Sandy Cecchini: taught me all about the importance of caring for the physical needs of my kids. I love to put freshly washed jammies on my kids. I love to see their clean little teeth after we use dino-floss. I get immense satisfaction in watching my family sit down and gobble up a well planned, nutritious meal. I love to care for my kids. My mom taught me that with all of the decades of fastidious care she gave us kids.

Tina (my sister): Oh boy, here come the tears. My sister has an insanely challenging life. Her oldest son has a severe case of Autism. Because of that her house basically runs like the floor of the New York stock exchange. There is a lot to do and not enough hands and time to do it all...BUT she always finds a way to make life fun for her kids. She has four kids and the youngest is five months old. But she finds a way to do Disneyland, four wheeler rides, the zoo, family bike rides, the pool, Mexico (for heaven's sake), christmas cookies, messy crafts, turtles, read books, million tiny part lego stuff, piano lessons (most of the practicing she does happens with a baby hooked on her boob)etc...and the list goes on. She taught me that life doesn't stop just because your heart gets broken and things are hard. You have fun anyway.

Julie Morris: My best friend. She taught me that kids are durable and that they are smarter than we give them credit for. They can fix thier own disagreements. They can dust off thier own knees. We as moms don't need to hover. I have often thought that if Nic and I died, I would totally trust Julie to raise my kids. They would be loved and learn the gospel because she is a great mom.

Ashley Stout: I have learned from Ashley that kids are what life is about. Her hubby is in dental school and things can be hectic, but she has started her family and those boys are her life. She didn't wait til life "got started" to have them. She pushed right on ahead and started without "life" and enjoys every minute of it. Because kids are that important to her.

Michelle Larkin: My mom in law. Michelle taught me that there are no limits to what we can do. It just takes planning, a bold, fearless attitude, and a lot of frequent flyer miles. In my short time knowing her, she has encouraged her sons to: be models, artists, olympians, authors, architechts, husbands, scuba divers, musicians, calf-riders, raw fish eaters, and a myriad of other daring endeavors. She is larger than life and I was lucky to snag one of her boys.

Monica Rawhouser: I've always admired the way Monica exposes her kids to different things...countries, languages, foods, ideas, music....I'll never forget the way Conrad loved ABBA for a whole year straight.

Christina Dickerson: I remember Christina let Bailey lick Jonas to death and climb all over him when he was a little baby. I remember stiffening at the sight of it. Then I kept on watching her as a mom. What a lesson I learned! She has a laid back attitude that becomes something so comforting and inviting. I met her mom and she is the same way. Christina's mothering style is steeped in some kind of magical maturity that I envy. She knows what stuff to sweat and what stuff isn't worth it. I love that about her.

Apryl Larkin: My sister in law. This girl has three kids two years old and under! It wasn't exactly what she planned. She was going to be this amazing scholar who had accomplished many an impressive feat. She was going to travel. She had big plans. But when I see her with her three little treasures (Vaughn, Pax and Gauge)I know she knows they are her greatest accomplishments. And she still mangages to have a hot bod two weeks after having a baby and read all kinds of challenging books yadda yadda....! Poo poo on you Apryl for your abs. It's not natural and you make me want to take the scissors to my own flabby belly.

I could go on. There are so many great moms. I love you all for what you teach me. So here's to mother's day. We deserve a lot more than a national holiday!

Come again?

2008-05-05T07:23:00.000-07:00

I was dropping off Nic at work this morning with the kids. Afton and I noticed a woman with a bad perm and a sour expression walking into Nic's building. I was silently musing about how glad I was I didn't have to pull a suitcase on wheels anywhere or put on panty hose at 6a.m. . Afton was musing about something else entirely because she then said: "Well, she looks like the Grinch's mother." I gave a real effort not to laugh, but man... couldn't do it.

New Family

2008-05-04T21:17:00.000-07:00

Afton, Evan, Vaughn and Pax chillin' at Burger King.

I was really hoping nobody was in the mood to poop!

Gauge Wentworth Larkin, 8lbs 11oz.

Nic's brother Sean has recently moved his family back to Las Vegas. We have had such a good time getting to know eachother again. Apryl, Sean's wife had a new baby this weekend and we watched the kids for them while she was in the hospital. I have discovered there is nothing quite like cousin fun. Those kids had a blast doing nothing more than running around with burger king crowns on eating cheetos. It is so special to make these relationships while they are young. We loved being together! And can I just say...holding that new little baby made me baby hungry like nobody's business! He had the most amazing pure white eyebrows and perfect little peanut head!

Faux-J

2008-05-01T08:23:00.000-07:00

Anyone who really knows me knows I can never wait for the next thing. I take pregnancy tests way before it's time and then rush to my friends' doors with EPT's that might possibly have a line on them. I put up Christmas decorations on November 1st. I start watching Snow White and Peter Pan a month before we step foot in Disneyland. I read the last paragraph of books before I'm done with them. I started planning my wedding with Nic (secretly of course) about a week after I met him. I just can't wait!!!! I'm always anxious for the next thing.

Now it's summer time. ALMOST! I have already swam in the UCHOA pool three times even though it is freezing. My fingertips and countertops are stained with berry juice from all of the berry stuff I've been making because it just feels summery! I eagerly wait for the days when my kids live in My Little Pony panties and diapers. (Cuts way back on the laundry). I've poured over Tahiti Vacation guides...(someday). I have even stocked up on our summer staple...Faux-J which is Walmart's generic version of Crystal Lite orange juice.

We've had a couple of warm nights so far and we took full advantage of playing with the garden hose for an hour, getting all sticky with watermelon juice and riding trikes and bikes half naked! (The kids of course).

So here's to summer and all of it's joys!

What's cooking?

2008-04-29T07:55:00.000-07:00

I remember Oprah once did an episode in which she walked around a neighborhood randomly knocking on doors simply to see what people were cooking for dinner. I loved that episode! I am always interested in what people are cooking. Nic scolds me because I love to "accidentally" peek in people's windows when we take evening walks. I love to cook. It comprises about 35 percent of my life:) This is what I have cooked in the last week. What are you cooking these days?

-Baked Rotini with sausage
-Thai Beef Curry with coconut milk and red peppers
-Sausage and green pepper pizza
-Quadruple berry turnovers
-Spaghetti
-Nic made fried egg sandwiches on Sunday morning
-grilled cheese and tomato/oregano soup

Bon apetite mes amis!

Good times...good times

2008-04-28T19:25:00.000-07:00

Recently, we dug the guitar out from under the bed and we have had so much fun with it! Nic is into Bon Jovi right now and I get serenaded on a regular basis. The kids attack him whenever they hear him play it. He finally gave in and let them play for a while.

Nic is such a good Daddy. He is drawing princesses with Afton.

Afton's Grandma Michelle came to her princess party in a ball gown and jewels.

We went to the cabin in Pine Valley for General conference. The kids loved the hammock and it was super handy for getting the stubborn ones to finally konk out for their naps.

Catching up

2008-04-28T18:45:00.000-07:00

So I finally emptied my memory card from my camera for the first time since Christmas. There were so many fun memories I will post a few. I still don't have the hang of this blogging thing...so where the pictures end up I know not...but they will be somewhere on this page in no specific order! Wish me luck.

The Gospel and Cheerios

2008-04-16T12:41:00.000-07:00

So I finally coughed up the thirty bucks to buy a gospel art kit. Those things are fantastic! We had a family home evening lesson about the miracle of the seagulls and then a super cute moment ensued. Nic, in all of his creative genius, had the kids pretend they were seagulls. He then sprinkled cheerios all over the carpet and pretended the cheerios were the crickets and our little seagulls had to eat them. Hygenic? No. So dang cute...absolutely. Nic was the pioneer farmer and I was in awe of his adorableness. Then he busted out the dusty guitar and we had a family jam session with primary songs. Isn't this the stuff life is made of?

I've Been Sucked In!

2008-04-08T17:35:00.000-07:00

All of my friends are blogging and I am starting to feel left out in conversations! So the time has come for the Larkin Family to join in! My friend Julie is over showing me the ropes of Blogspot. So, this is my test post and there will be more to come soon!

This is Afton who is now four and Evan who is 17 mos. They beg Nic to set them up in the mulberry tree outside our house.