Comic Relief for Lauren...and Anyone Else Who Needs It

Today I was talking with my friend Lauren, who just happens to be funny, smart, and beautiful. (If you know any nice, handsome, respectable, single men, let me know.) I was telling her what a crack-up Riley has been this week, and I told her I'd post all the nutty things he's said in the past few days. So if you're in need of a laugh, giggle, or even a chuckle, then read on.



For those of you familiar with our family, you'll know that Ben is the guy who frequently says "Are you going to finish that?" when someone is done eating but has left food on their plate. The other night I cooked pasta Alfredo and served it with a side of broccoli. (Sometimes when I'm really in a crazy mood, I'll just throw my broccoli on top of the pasta, covering it all in fattening, cholesterol-rich, lip-smacking delicious Alfredo sauce. But that's not what I'm here to tell you about.) Riley made quick work of his pasta, but left a couple of broccoli florets on his plate. He got out of his chair, picked up his fork and his plate containing the broccoli, and walked over to the cupboard under the sink to put the broccoli in the garbage. He slowly opened the cupboard with one hand and leaned his plate into the garbage. But then he paused. With his fork on his plate, almost ready to send the broccoli into the trash, he looked over at Ben and asked, "Do you want my broccoli, Dad?"

"No thanks, Riley," replied Ben.

And with a little shoulder shrug and a tilted head, Riley said, "OK. Suit yourself," and scraped his broccoli in the trash.



I have a loud voice. Always have had. It's genetic and environmental. That's what happens when you grow up in a house where your parents communicate through yelling loudly. I really try not to yell at my kids. Some days I'm more successful than others in my attempts to keep my voice down. One technique that has helped me is funny singing. Sometimes when the kids are being disobedient but not necessarily naughty, I sing a loud, funny, and terrible version of an opera singer. Just one big note with as much vibrato, however horrible it may be, as I can.

A few nights ago was one of those nights where Riley was in monkey-mode. Lots of noise and bad manners and swinging. He was supposed to be sitting in his chair, eating dinner. He was hanging by the edge of the table and swinging under it. And giggling of course. I didn't want to yell, so I belted out a fat, old note, exhaling as much tension as I could muster. Riley continued to giggle. I then said to him, "Riley, it's not funny," meaning the behavior he was exhibiting.

"It's funny when you scream like that!" he giggled back at me. Ben was having such a hard time not laughing with his mouth full of food, I thought the food might just spew forth from his nose.



Riley wasn't feeling his best on Sunday, but seeing as how both Ben and I were teaching, we just had to suck it up and go. Riley was a trooper. For a while there we wondered if he'd ever manage to stick out Sacrament meeting, but he's done remarkably well with the strategies we've added to help him out. Because he wasn't feeling well, we let him take Blue Blankie to church with us. Blue Blankie is his blanket he's had since he was a baby. And, well, it's blue.

Riley was snuggling with me for a while, then hopped off my lap to go draw with Ben. When he got off my lap, he turned around to face me, and with very serious eyes and much brow furrowing, he handed me Blue Blankie and said, "Use it well." Then he turned and went to Ben.



I don't know if these things are as funny to you as they are to me. Maybe these moments are those you-had-to-be-there kind of things. And witnessing these funny things in person is so much better because Riley has such an expressive face. It just seems nice that we're doing more laughing and smiling than yelling and time-outs. I just hope it keeps going in that direction.

Better Five Years Late Than Never

If you walked into my house and gazed at the pictures on the wall, you'd notice there is something, or someone, missing. And I could kick myself for it.

I am the youngest of my siblings, the baby of the family. My parents did what most parents do and took tons of pictures of their oldest child, my brother Todd. There are some really great black-and-white photos of him as a little fellow in the great outdoors, usually sporting a pair of cowboy boots. But, like most parents, with each child the selection and quantity of photographs diminishes. Which leaves me with very few childhood pictures of myself.

It's not a really big deal. There are enough pictures to satisfy my nostalgia and my children's curiosity of what I looked like when I was a kid. My little munchkins were highly entertained when my brother, who was visiting from West Virginia, and I went through my mom and dad's old box of photographs. I had some seriously awesome hair in elementary school! But my stylish 80s hairdos are not what I'm rambling about. What I'm rambling about is the fact that I did the same things as my parents and took less photographs with each kid.

In all honesty, I didn't do so bad. There are still lots of photographs of my kids when they were young; there are just more of Melanie. And more tangible photos of her. When Carter was born and into his infant/toddler stage was when digital cameras really arrived on the scene. I have one photo/scrapbook album of Carter, whereas I have four of Melanie. And I think the reason for this is that most of Carter's pictures are on the computer, where they and other photos provide a slideshow for a screen saver. It's actually quite nice, and Ben and I often find ourselves just watching the screen and remembering funny times with our kiddos.

So, even though I still have photos, I've been terrible at displaying them nicely framed on my wall for all to see. Right now I have a picture of Melanie from 4th grade; she's now in 7th. Her photo isn't too bad, because she still really looks like herself. On the other hand, Carter's photo is from when he was about two years old. Seriously, the boy is eight now! And Riley? Do you remember the something, or someone, missing from the beginning of this post? Well, that'd be my youngest, who is now five, who doesn't even have a picture on our wall...until now!

My amazing friend, Teona, took pictures of my kids last week. Granted, with my kids as subjects she has some beautiful material to work with, but she also did a fantastic job with the photos.

It was really hard selecting which ones to develop. As I'm typing this I realize I should have posted a bunch and had you all who read this vote on your favorites. But I would have picked what I wanted in the end anyway. ;) That's just my mother's prerogative.

We took these just up Cedar Canyon, where the bridge is by the Canyon Park trail. Riley's we took a few days earlier, and didn't make it up in time to keep the sun out of the photo. Carter and Melanie's were done early enough that we caught the shade, and they look wonderful! The contrast between the light and dark in the pictures is something I worry about when they're all on the wall, but it's better than what's there now!

I'm pretty lucky, don't you think?

My Love-Hate Relationship with the Harry Potter Series

With summer bringing a little less structure and a little more relaxation (I love being married to a teacher for that reason), we settled down as a family and watched the Harry Potter movies. We started with Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix and then moved on to Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, eventually jumping to the earlier movies. These two movies, which I love, got me all wound up for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, which comes out in November...well the first half anyway.

Of course, next I went online to watch the Trailer for HP7. I get the tinglies every time I watch it. And, yes, I'm a total nerd, I've watched it several times. I then decided I still needed more Harry Potter and decided to read the series over again.

I'm the kind of person who can read a book over and over again and still enjoy it. I don't remember all the details, just the main ideas and whether or not I liked the book. I used to hate that I couldn't remember what I read, especially when it came to testing in school, when my reading comprehension was tested. But now when I read it's for pure enjoyment and I don't have to remember everything. This lack of memory is what enables me to continue enjoying books I've previously read.

I first read Harry Potter in the summer of 2000. Our family was living in Vancouver, WA at the time, and Melanie and I had traveled down to Cedar City for my best friend's wedding. After enjoying visiting my friend and attending her wedding, I headed home, and my mother-in-law, Jeanne, was kind enough to drive home with Melanie and me.

I had heard about the Harry Potter series from several people, and they all said the same thing: Harry Potter is amazing, awesome, great, etc. I wasn't a big fan of fantasy books. I can count on my left hand the number of fantasy books I had read, and I remember thinking, "What is the big deal about a book about an 11-year-old boy wizard?" So on the way back to Vancouver, Jeanne handed me Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. "Read it," she said. Not one to argue, but to please, I didn't object when she climbed into the driver's seat. I settled in the back, next to a 20-month-old Melanie, (still bald, but very cute), and cracked open the beginning of Harry's story.

I could tell you how I couldn't put it down, but as we were in a car and there wasn't much else to do that statement wouldn't hold as much weight as it usually does. I'll just say I don't remember much of the drive because I was at Hogwarts with Harry, finding my way in the wizarding world, making friends, and helping Harry stop Voldemort from obtaining the Sorcerer's Stone. Needless to say, I was hooked. Here's where the love part of the relationship began.

At that time, the first three books were out, and Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire was to come out soon. I devoured the second and third books and impatiently waited for the fourth. What torture!

Little did I know there would be continual bouts of torture from the lovely J.K. Rowling. After each book came out, I would immerse myself in Harry's world with the same appetite as I did with the first book, only it intensified with each new book, as Harry and his world become more complex. I felt Harry's elation when he found Sirius and learned who his godfather truly was. I struggled along with him as he competed in the Triwizard Tournament, fought and made up with Ron, and battled and beat Voldemort yet again. I felt his frustration at being treated like a kid when he'd been through much more than most adults, especially when he lost Sirius. My stomach had sympathy butterflies every time Harry thought of Ginny and when he FINALLY kissed her. My heart stopped (and my hand flew to my mouth) when Harry watched Snape use the Killing Curse that caused Dumbledore to sail over the edge of the Astronomy tower and fall from its lofty height.

Then along came Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Hallows versus Horcruxes; Harry, Hermione, and Ron constantly on the run and narrowly escaping capture; taking Hogwarts back from the evil deisigns of the Carrows and Snape. Snape. I loathe him, and I didn't feel too badly when he met his rather sticky end. I really have trouble getting other things done when I'm in that book. Dishes don't get washed as quickly, laundry stays unfolded and slightly wrinkled in the laundry basket, and peanut butter sandwiches are usually what gets served for lunch...and dinner. How am I supposed to get those things done when I'm helping Harry, Hermione, and Ron find and destroy Horcruxes, not to mention rid the wizarding world of Voldemort?!

So what could I possibly hate about Harry Potter? Nothing. Nothing, except for the fact that I hate when it's over. I don't want to read anything else. I have Hunger Games, Catching Fire, and Mockingjay sitting on my shelf, waiting to be read, and I have no desire to read them. Ben told me I'll love those books, and I believe him, but all I want to do is go back to Hogwarts and stay there. I want Hogwarts to be real.

Pegasus

As many of you know, Riley is quite the chatterbox. (I seriously have no idea where he gets it from. You know, because my father and I are so very, very quiet, shy people.)

The other day our family was all riding together in the van, and Riley was telling everyone about his scary dream he had the night before. Apparently, Curious George screamed at a clown, who then ran away. I'd be scared, too, if Curious George started screaming. Ben started to tell him how he had scary dreams all the time growing up, which usually involved Ben being saved by a wizard, who helped him escape on the back of a Pegasus. Don't ask. Just don't ask.

This didn't sit well with Riley, who turned to Ben and in an embarrassed, hiding his face and hunkering down his shoulders kind of way said, "Um, Dad. Pegasus are kind of girlie."

A Break

For the past two years, when August finally rolled around, you could find me busily preparing my kids and myself for school. I became obsessed with notebooks, pens, pencils, index cards, highlighters, staples, backpacks, books.

I love the line from You've Got Mail where Joe Fox writes to Kathleen Kelly: "Don't you just love New York in the fall? It makes me want to buy school supplies. I would send you a bouquet of newly sharpened pencils if I knew your name and address." Seriously, if Ben sent me a bouquet of newly sharpened pencils, I'd be in heaven...or close to it.

This year is different. Although you can probably still find me roaming the aisles at Staples or the school supply area at Wal-Mart, you won't find me at school. I've decided to take a break for a while. This decision did not come lightly or easily, but it came nonetheless.

There are several reasons for my break from higher education, one of which is the fact that I was losing focus at home. Some nights were so full of homework that things that needed to get done, things that helped me keep my sanity, were not getting done. Like dishes in the sink or a dirty kitchen table. And don't even talk to me about how my bathrooms were beginning to look. I know these seemingly meaningless household chores might not be the most important things in the world, but I LIKE having a clean house, and the fact that it never was clean was beginning to drive me insane.

I also didn't have enough time for my kids. I was caught up in getting everything done at school that my family suffered. I see it more in hindsight than I did at the moment. I kept telling myself what a good example I was setting for them by making this commitment to get my bachelor's degree. And while getting as much education as possible is key to success in life, putting my children 2nd in line does nothing for setting a good example. I didn't even have time to volunteer in the classroom, which is something I love doing. It's great to see how my children function in that setting, and I missed out last year.

Ben is also going to school, but he is working toward his masters in education. He'll graduate in Spring of 2011, so he only has one year left. He went last year, which means there were two of us going to college last year. And let me tell you, our house turned upside-down because of it.

I also struggled personally with going to school. I have this horrible habit/personality trait of taking an all-or-nothing stance, except for me it's never on the nothing side. Sometimes that can be a good thing, but when it came to school, and especially grades, I was far too set on getting that A!

So now what? Well, my plan is to wait until Riley is in first grade, which gives me two full years to think, and then I'll decide if I'm ready to go back to school. I'm not deciding right now because right now this break from school feels so good that I'd never go back. My hope is that in two years I will positively know what I want from college, and find a better balance between home and school. And if I don't go back, I'm really okay with that. As old-fashioned and "Leave It To Beaver" as it sounds, I like being a mom and a wife. I like doing laundry and keeping my house clean. I love when I make dinner and Ben and the kids tell me how delicious it is. I love my sanity...or what's left of it.

So give me that string of pearls, June Cleaver. I'm ready.

Carter's 8th Birthday!

I can't believe Carter is eight years old! I thought the idea of "time flying by" would lessen with each child, but it definitely goes by just as quickly with each one.

Carter has always been such a sweetheart...and he's always been a muncher and a lover of chocolate (he's a kid after my own heart).

Here he is partaking of delectable chocolate cake on his first birthday...


(Ignore this random, albeit cute, photo of Carter. I couldn't take it off once I put it on. Me and my computer illiteracy.)

...and here he is licking the batter out of the bowl on his eighth birthday. He couldn't even wait for the cake this time. The chocolatey goodness was just too tempting and he failed to resist!

Of course Riley had to help Carter clean up the cake batter, and Carter was kind enough to let his little brother help out. They make a very messy team.

I get the same crazy look in my eyes when I lick cake batter. Especially cake batter made from Pioneer Woman's "The Best Chocolate Cake. Ever." recipe.

Here he is opening one of his traditional favorite presents - money!

His Aunt Sally was very thoughtful and bought him the scout handbook. I hadn't even thought of him getting into scouts!

Again, here is Riley helping out. He wanted to buy Carter a Mystery Hot Wheels car for his birthday. Uh huh, sure you did, Riley. Just like when men go out and buy their wives power tools for their birthday. I know your evil plan, Riley.

Grandma Jeanne was a thinker and bought Carter his scout shirt, and she sewed on the troop number...and probably the other badges, but I'm not experienced with scouts so I'm not sure. Thanks again, Grandma!

He had a great birthday. Grandma Jeanne hosted a small family pool party in her backyard. The kids had fun and enjoyed the day, and the cake (if I do say so myself). Carter is such a fun kid. He has his moments where I swear his little brain is turned off and he's completely zoned out, which he is. But when he's on the ball, he's a smart little stinker.

Carter will start the second grade next month, and I am extremely excited to see what he accomplishes this year. He's such a good friend, and his teacher told us last year that everyone always wants to be around him. He's really good to his little brother (as good as an eight-year-old can be to his percocious four-year-old brother). He's an avid math kid and reader--he's already read the first two books in the Fablehaven series, and he's slowly working on the third.

At the moment he wants to be a scientist and a video game designer when he grows up. I'm sure that whatever he puts his mind to, he'll accomplish.

We love you, Carter Dean!

Entertaining Strangers

A couple of nights ago our family had just settled in to read scriptures together and to say family prayer. Riley had finally decided that he was going to sit still on my lap while we read, something he doesn't do very often. We all had our scriptures open, ready to read, when there was a knock on the door. And not just any old knock, but the "Shave and a Hair Cut" knocking. Melanie was expecting her best friend, Lindsey, to come by to pick her up for night games, so we let Riley answer the door. Normally, we don't let him answer because it wouldn't matter who it was; door-to-door salesperson, serial killer, or Santa Claus, he'd let them in. But we all thought it was Lindsey.

Riley rushes over to the door, yanks it open, and shouts, "We're having family prayer!" His shouting that would have been fine, if it would have been Lindsey. It was not. In fact, it was a couple of salespeople trying to clean our carpets. And you should have seen and heard the guy when Riley said that. He was seriously apologetic and laughing at the same time. It was great. Only Riley...