UNDER PRESSURE

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 loud...at 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.

HONORED

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.

Joshua
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."

Lane
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."

"Really?"

"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."

Evan
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!)

NOT SKINNY

I am not skinny.
I'm not saying I'm fat; I'm just not skinny.

I am somewhere along the lines of slim, with the addition of two lovely, large, very curvaceous, space-filling...HIPS!

Why on earth, you might ask, am I even thinking of such a silly thing?
One, because my mom keeps hounding me to write something...anything...Just post already!
and
Two, because I went to my ZUMBA class again.

Finally, I've found a place for my hips.

A story for you:
One day I went to ZUMBA class, all prepared and excited to swivel those mighty hips of mine to some Latin merengue, when in walked one of the most beautiful girls I have ever seen. You know the type: tall, skinny, perfect nose, perfect teeth, golden rope of braided blonde hair hanging down her back, and no hips.

Throughout class I tried to be oblivious and keep my eyes on the instructor, but I kept getting distracted by that pretty girl.

No, it's not like that!
It's just that the pretty girl COULDN'T DANCE!!
She may wear size zero pants and have never had a single zit--EVER-- but that girl couldn't keep the beat to save her life!

And with that fine observation, I swayed and swerved, swooshed and stepped all the more enthusiastically...and right on beat, I might add.

Then, during a drink break, Pretty-girl and I headed the same direction for our water bottles.
As she bent down to pick hers up, I noticed something else about her.
Hearing Aids.
Pretty-girl is deaf.

Keri is a lame-o.

End of story.


Except that it's not. Today I went to my spinning class. And in walked who could only be Pretty-girl's twin sister. Tall, skinny, perfect nose, perfect teeth, thick blonde pony-tail cascading down her back, and no hips.

She even bicycled well...

EGGSTATIC!

(warning: there will be a lot of scrolling involved in the reading of this post!)

This is what Easter looked like at our house:

Mmmmm...Peeps!
E...extra eggs all over the floor!
S...super-skilled multi-taskers: they can eat and play at the same time!
S...so very Martha Stewart!
Y...yikes! Who's gonna' clean this all up?!

This is what Easter looked like at our friends' house:

M...maybe you know three cuter boys, but I don't!
A...aching to reach in for a swipe of frosting and strawberries!

R...our really talented juggler!
V...victory to the finest/fastest egg-hunters!
E...eggs hidden in some pretty great places!
L...look! He's actually sucking an egg out of the fence!
O...out it came! Here's to Lane's amazing Pucker-Power!
U...unlucky kids; almost all the eggs were devoid of candy!
S...seven years and running, our annual Easter afternoon!

This is what Easter looked like at the Vance Family Homestead:

M...Marianne with Ingelisa, the woman who sponsored Marianne in coming to America (thanks, Ingelisa!).
A...all the men doing the dishes: an Easter Miracle!

G...the gorgeous guys of the group.
N...need a tripod? Use your sister's head!
I...isn't he adorable?! The stylin'est baby I know!
F...family picture...Awhhh!
I...is it legal to look this good?
C...can't find it...
E...Evan is still oblivious...
N...no more marshmallow bunny for Evan!
T...totally awesome day, Hon!

The End.

Not really.

How grateful I am that there is no end.
Jesus Christ paid the ultimate price with His atoning blood and inconceivable love for each of us. Easter is the gift of eternity.

And that is simply...

MIRACULOUS.

THRILLED

Once upon a time there was a couple that always had beautiful hair, always had gleaming smiles, and always looked just liked this.



Then, on April Fool's Day (could any day be better for giving away big rings and making promises?), they looked like this.

And did a whole lot of this.

Not only are they beautiful,
they're obviously quite smart, too.


Congratulations, you two, and to all of us that get to have you in our lives, as well.

We're thrilled!

FOOLED

I'm not sure what, exactly, woke me this morning just after 6 o'clock. Usually I awake to the sound of Lane showering around 5:45, so at finding it already so "late," and not hearing any morning noises downstairs, I panicked a little at how behind we morning-risers were.

I should have known something was up when Michael hopped out of bed right behind me, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, squawking, "Aren't the boys up yet?"

Michael's alarm goes off every single morning at 6:19 a.m. And Michael never, Never, NEVER gets up until closer to half past 7, when I nudge him (lovingly, of course) out of bed with updates on the passing time. Michael always stumbles around for while, grumbling and groaning, his eyes half-shut, hardly speaking a coherent word until he's showered and on his way out the door a few minutes later.

So when Michael got up, on his own, before his alarm, before even his own children, before I had to go in and do any nudging at all (lovingly, of course), I really, really should have known something was up like a tall man in rumpled pajamas.

But I was too busy getting Lane out of bed, getting Evan somewhat cognizant of the situation, and getting everything else ready on this hurried, harried morning.

I started breakfast. I made Michael's lunch. I listened as Lane called his friend Cody to make sure he was awake and ready for his ride to school in just 5 more minutes...

And I tried really, really hard not to be furious at Michael as he walked around, berating people for their tardiness.

Then, he tipped the scales, and called us all to morning prayer.

Michael hasn't been to morning prayer since...I don't know...ever?

"What?!" I demanded, "Is this something new?" He'd even gotten Joshua out of bed for our little family gathering.

"I just thought," Michael cooed, "That since we're all up at the same time, we might as well have family prayer together." And, with that, he began. "Dear Heavenly Father, we thank thee for this beautiful morning, that we could all have a chance to kneel here and begin the day...and please, Heavenly Father, help my family to forgive me for what I have done to them today..."

And with that, I knew all. So did the others. We'd been had.

Evan groaned. Lane laughed. I harrumphed and walked away, definitely mad. Joshua rubbed more sleep from his eyes and asked, "What did you do? I don't get it? What did you do?"

Michael, after laughing his head off, tried to make amends by taking us all to McDonald's for breakfast. Believe you me, there was no ordering off the dollar-menu this time: it was as expensive an order as I could possibly make it! Extra-large, premium orange juices for everyone! Two of everything! And throw in lunch, while you're at it!

Then, after our return from McDonald's, Michael had to reset every single clock in the house back an hour, to the real time.

I so should have known.

Hope yours is as "fun" as ours!


P.S. I'm not sure Michael's prank will ever make it on this list (though it should), but if you're interested in some more good jokes, here's a fun place to peruse:

http://www.museumofhoaxes.com/hoax/aprilfool/

BACK (ISH)

Remember when there used to be a blog that I updated (SEMI) regularly?

Yeah, me too.

I tried really hard to forget, despite some not so subtle reminders that I was a slacker.

But when somebody actually felt the need to ask today if I had changed my blogging address and was writing elsewhere...I knew it was time to come back.

For now.

It's not like my life has been terribly boring, or anything. I got a new niece (she's beautiful), we had super-fun company, my next show opened, I've done a bit of subbing, I've done a bit of coughing, oh, and I had a son turn 18 years old.

I am no longer telling people that I actually am old enough to be his mother. Because I'm not. Not anymore.

I've been to soccer games and choir concerts, and last night I got to watch three of my lovelies perform a 50's themed number at the "Spring Sing" at our Stake Center (a.k.a. church meetinghouse). It brought tears to my eyes to see someone belonging to me so dedicated to his craft, someone else belonging to me so dazzling to watch on stage, and someone else belonging to me so dang handsome in sunglasses and a black leather jacket.

But, let's face it: boring life or not, I really am a slacker.

So, maybe you'll hear from me again. Maybe you won't.

At least now I know who cares.