Friday, May 29, 2009


Once upon a time I had a paycheck.

"Boy, oh, boy!" I thought. "What in the world will I do with all this money?" (Think: shoes...)

the fridge broke.
a car broke.
our car got broken into and my glasses were stolen (Glasses?! I mean really. What robber is going to wear my prescription glasses?!).
Joshua needed new shoes.
Lane needed new shoes.
(There went Keri's shoes)
Lane needed a physical.
Evan needed a physical.
my scooter broke.
the printer broke.
Evan needed an immunization.
Evan needed money for his grad night.
I got a ticket.
Lane had a band concert/fund raiser.
Joshua wanted to play comp league soccer.
Lane wanted to play comp league soccer.
Evan wanted to go on choir tour to California.
and the whole family wanted to eat dinner. Every night.
breakfast and lunch, too.
the freezer just broke. Again. No food and no money.

Moral of the story: she who asks the question will very quickly get an answer!

Rich, I am not.

However, I am also NOT POOR. I've got:

a new sister-in-law

a new niece
nephews who have recently decided that they love me
children who entertain me (anytime you need a laugh, have Lane do his pizza man impression!)
a husband who didn't get (too) mad when I used his new (I didn't know it was new!) tarp to do some spray painting
some newly spray painted kitchen chairs
a new (to me) hand me down watch
a new (opening in a week) show to do
a whole bag of tortilla chips to eat
a brand new thermeter, fan motor, and mother board for the fridge/a.k.a. a practically brand new fridge
a whole week of substituting coming up.

Life is rich. Thanks for letting me share it.

Tuesday, May 26, 2009


In an effort to make more memories with my children, I ventured out of my box and went four-wheeling with the fellows.

You can't even begin to imagine my excitement at starting the day on a non seat belted craft, pre-plastered (craft and children) with mud from the previous day's ride.

Once we got out into the sunlight, traveling through some greenery, able to see for miles around, I thought that I might actually, but not terribly so very much after all if it's on trails and not too bumpy and not for very long or going very fast, like this.

Then Lane asked, "Do we have to stay on these boring trails the whole time? Can't we do something fun?"

"Yeah, " said Evan, in his composer's man voice.

"Yeah!" said Joshua, in his I'll-do-anything-Lane-wants-to-do/scare-me-to-death voice.

"Oh, yeah!" thought Michael, in his I-wish-I-were-filming-a-Polaris-commercial-right-now, but-I-can't-afford-to-scare-my-wife-yet inner head voice.

"Uh. Hasn't this been fun?" asked Keri, taking deep breaths. Very, gulp, deep breaths.
(Begin hyperventilation now.)

Apparently not so much fun.

So, up some hills we climbed. Very fast.
Over some huge rocks we crawled. Very bumpy.
Through piles of shale we crackled. Very exhilarating. For a boy.
And then it was time to come down.


And, just so you know, my fears were not completely without merit.

We did make it down.
But not without tipping one of the machines over, directly onto my leg.

I was the only one hurt, and I'm just bruised and sore; thankfully, not broken. Also, not so sure about this whole memory making thing.
Something tells me reading a book might be safer.

P.S. The boys' favorite part of the weekend? Saturday with their dad and cousin, or Monday's hackey sack game with Grandpa. Figures.

Thursday, May 21, 2009


What to do? What to do?

My kids want certain things. I want others.
How do I know which are the right choices?

Now, if it were a matter of "Should I let them drink arsenic, or should I let them drink water?"
I'd probably get that one right.
One would hope.

I'm hoping I can answer these.

My kids (including the biggest, tallest one) want a dog. I so don't.
Should I cave?

Lane wants to quit the school play so that he can play soccer year round.
(I realize I'm a little bit prejudiced towards the stage, but...) Should I let him?

Joshua wants to play on the soccer team that is far more intense than the one I'd pick for him.
It's also twice the cost. $500 twice the cost.
Should he do it?

Evan wants to run down our street naked, shouting, "I'm the King of the World!" at the top of his lungs.
Well, not really, but it sounded good. And I'd probably let him.
There aren't many people that live on our street.

Well, these and other mysteries are rattling around in my head.
Here's another: should I eat these stale jelly beans, or not?

Eat them. I should definitely eat them.

For help with all other matters (the jelly beans are now gone, so no more wondering about that!), please call 1-800-I'm-Bound-To-Make-My-Children-Hate-Me.

Then all I have to know is, "Should I answer the phone, or shouldn't I?" Ah, the questions never end...

Wednesday, May 20, 2009


Evan likes to compose music.

It is his identity.

He has a black zip-up hoodie from school, upon which he had the word "Composer" embroidered.
People ask him what he is going to do after graduation (Yikes! Is that really coming up so soon?) and he immediately replies, "Work on my composing."
When talking about what he will study in college he ignores all recommendations to focus on his general ed classes, and insists he must take composition 1 through 1000.

Being a composer is important to him.

Monday night there was a choir concert/talent show at the high school. Every year students audition to compete in this show. Several acts perform, and audience votes are tallied up at the end of the night to proclaim a winner who is then awarded with, as Evan would say, "Mula."

Evan was chosen to be in the show this year, playing, with two good friends of his, one of his compositions, arranged for three pianos.

This was very important to him.

(The sad truth is, I wasn't equally excited.
The sad truth is, I am not a very nice mother.)

After hearing him banging away on the piano for hours--if not years--on end, I have, admittedly, been more likely to remind him about doing his laundry than I have been to encourage him to pursue his passion.

Perhaps it's a good thing he generally ignores me. And that I do laundry.

Here is the video we took of Evan, dressed in a freshly washed tuxedo shirt and clean socks, wearing the black shoes I made him find rather than the brown ones he tried to walk out the door in, playing his song "Starburst." The video is muddy, shaky, and very long. But it's him.

So, not only was he chosen to be a part of the talent show,
not only did he and his friends perform beautifully,
not only did they receive a spontaneous standing ovation from the entire house,
he also took first place, and got some "mula."

Congratulations, Evan. I mean, Composer.
It really was wonderful, and well-deserved. It was also very, very important.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009


This morning when I took a walk I saw:

orange poppies dropping their petals
tiny seed pods falling like snow
pollen from a pine tree glittering in the sun
rainbows in the sprinkler water
water reflecting silver as it overflowed the canal
dark purple lilacs with white borders
copious amounts of bright colored flowers
two neighbors out working in their yards

This morning when I took a walk I heard:

birds chirping
bees buzzing
leaves rustling
construction tractors tractoring
my iPod

This morning when I took a walk I smelled:

wet grass
warm dirt
hot pavement
budding pine boughs
purple and white lilacs
somebody's breakfast

This morning when I took a walk I felt:

warm sun on my arms and face
cool breezes playing on my skin
sweat trickling down my back
my aching right foot neuroma (can I tell you how glad I am to have an actual excuse not to run?!)
a rock in my shoe.

I can't wait to do this again tomorrow! It was rather dazzling.

Monday, May 18, 2009


Friends, Romans, Countrymen...Lend me your ears...I mean, eyes...

I am feeling the pressure.

First, my mom begs a few more posts.
Next, my sister calls and asks, "Wouldn't you like to write professionally?"
Then, some OoF (Out of Family) readers (I think there are about 3 of you) tell me they LAUGHED...out my blog.

And now I'm stymied.

I have nothing funny to write.

Let's see...there was that time that I subbed in sixth grade...
No. That wasn't funny. That was tiring.

Then there was that time I went to rehearsal...
Nope. Not funny either.

Oh, I got it! Once, I went shopping and...
Uh, uh. Not gonna' cut it.
Not unless spending money makes you laugh (and since Michael is part of my IF --and if-fy-- readership, I'm going to guess not).

I am all out of wit.

I will try to do something lame, like make fun of a deaf-girl, sometime soon. But until then, I'm afraid you're stuck with boring. It's what I do best.

Ask my kids.

Sunday, May 10, 2009


Now, I know there are those out there who detest this day and its tradition of honoring "Mother," but I'm not one of them. Possibly it's because I, myself, have an amazing Mother (thanks, Mom), and it's nice to think of her. It might be because I actually like getting the geranium at church. But mostly I think it's because when else would I get to witness such glorious sights as these?

Michael doing dishes (AND the laundry, I might add).

Joshua and his hand-made creation.

Lane getting me some food from downstairs WITHOUT complaining
(and only 3 reminders).

Evan at the computer. (Oh. I suppose that's an Anytime deal.)

Yes, it's been a lovely day, and it's not even 5 o'clock yet! I can't wait for dinner, and what I can only presume will bring the additional gift of all the men doing the dishes. Oh, what a beautiful sight.

In honor of the day, let me share a few recent, top-rate, choice experiences I've had lately in being a mother to my particular three.

Earlier this week there was a day that I put my make-up on and was actually quite pleased with the results. I'll be honest; I thought I looked pretty.
Not too many moments after this happy discovery, Joshua came into the bathroom, took one look at me and said, "Why do you do that to yourself? You look all bumpy (his word, not mine)."

He then proceeded to dissect my face with his delightful descriptions of my handiwork, none of them complimentary.

Not having any time to rectify the situation, I left for the day. Amazingly, I got quite a few compliments on how pretty I looked.

Not one (other) person told me I looked "bumpy."

Recently there was a happening game of beach volleyball along the sandy shores of Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. Sorry you missed it.

Lane was one of the players, put on a team with some of God's great handiwork: two bodybuilding models vacationing there on their honeymoon.

After the game Lane asked me, "Did you see that blond girl on our volleyball team?"
"Yep," I replied, "I was there. She was awfully pretty, wasn't she?"
"She was HOT! That is exactly the kind of girl that I want to marry."
"I suppose you could do that, Lane."
"Well, you do have some say in who you marry, so you could probably pick someone really pretty to marry."
"That's good. For some reason I always thought I would end up with some ugly chick as my wife."
"I'm glad you can stop that from happening."
"Yeah. Me, too."

Just for curiosity's sake I asked a car-full of my men what they would do if I chose to stay home to nap and watch chick-flicks instead of going to Farmor's (Michael's mother) house for Mother's Day dinner.
Evan was quick with his reply.

"Of course we'd stay home to spend time with you. Right after we got back from Farmor's."

I feel so loved.

Actually, I do feel loved. If not always by my children, then at least by my Heavenly Father, who gave them to me.
And, if not always loved, at least always lucky. There's bound to be something to laugh about sooner or later!

(i.e. Lane's pink fingernails. I have no explanation.)

Happy Mother's Day!
(Yes, I know one of these boys is not my own, but I'd claim Alex any day!)