LAME

Once upon a time I went on a trip to Atlanta.

Then, after more than a week past my return,
rather than expend any effort at recapturing the memories myself,
I decided to link to what other people
(read: my fellow travelers; read: my sisters and mom)
have had to say about our southern sojourn. They already did such a good job.

Yep, Keri is so very...p-lazy-rizing her own family.
I am a p-lazy-rist.

(P.S. Anybody want to write about my trip to Japan two years ago? I'll share my chopsticks...)

AWAY

I am away, doing this.

Hugs and kisses, and a promise of my own update soon.

DISTRESSED

Lane had his first soccer game of the season today.

I'm not sure if it was more upsetting to watch him get clobbered (knocked off his feet, pummeled to the ground, squished and squashed between a billion other players...and scored on to boot!),
or to overhear the three girls sitting near Joshua and me talking about Lane.

"Oh, he is so cute..."

"Yeah, he's awesome..."
"I love Lane...Lane, I love you!!!"

Definitely the squashed part; hearing the girls was pure entertainment!

R-RATED

WARNING: This post is inappropriate. Dana, stop reading NOW!

Last night at dinner we sat and discussed the parent teacher conferences I had just attended for Lane. I complimented him on his extremely good grades and the praise and smiles I received from each of his teachers, including his seminary teacher who is often times driven to distraction by Lane's antics (i.e. bringing in a lighter and burning things in class--"to help everyone understand Alma 14 better," filling his teacher's water bottle with vinegar, breaking in to his teacher's office and putting post-it notes with smiley faces over each framed photograph, etc., etc...).

"But, Lane," I mistakenly went on to say, "No matter how awesome you truly are, I still wish you would wear a belt with your pants. I am tired of seeing your undie-tundies all the time."

"You mean this?" Lane asked, as he stood and pulled his pants down further.
"Or this?" at which point he mooned me.


THEN...

Just when I thought I at least had Joshua to give me hope...
Joshua came in to Michael's office declaring that he was,
"So masturbated."

"What did Joshua just say?" I queried my equally stunned husband.

"I'm pretty sure he said what you think he said," was Michael's amazingly calm reply.

Seeing our dazed and concerned looks, Joshua quickly asked,
"What? What did I do? What did I say?"

"Tell us what you meant just now," Michael requested.

"Oh...(pause, pause, pause) I think what I meant to say was, 'exasperated.' Did I just say something bad?"

We laughed, and I told him he should maybe stick to saying he was frustrated.

I'm afraid that because we are (obviously) such a naughty, ribald family you may not want to a) come visit, b) say that you know us, or c) read this blog anymore. We are oh so R-rated.
I will miss you greatly, but I'm pretty sure I'll still be chuckling.

SUPER DEE DOOPER SMART

How I know Joshua is a good kid:

Let's be real for a second; if your child looked like this, why would you even care?

Who's going to let him out long enough to cause problems?!

REALLY SMART

How I know Evan is a good kid:

He sent me a Valentine's Day card, on time, in the mail, with a nicer message to me than I have ever written to anyone. He really touched my heart.

He has also indicated that he misses my cooking. If you know my cooking at all...then you know it's a thing that should be missed.

Love you, Evan.

SMART

How I know Lane is a good kid:

One day, not too long before the State swim meet, Lane came home with his hair cut in a mohawk.

You can imagine the double take I did when I first caught a glimpse of his (not so) hunky handsomeness.

That night Michael, Joshua, and I left for a soccer tournament in St. George. Lane had very clear instructions to cut his hair before the Sweetheart's Dance that weekend.

Which he did.

With no parents to push him and no grown ups to ground him, he still did what we asked.
He also went to his church basketball game, mohawk and all, despite the fact that he hates playing church basketball. He got himself up and to early morning seminary. He didn't skip school. He didn't drive the car we left. He did his laundry. He put his dishes in the dishwasher. And he made it home on time from his swim meet to go to a dance he had no interest in attending. Sporting a new haircut.

He also told the people who were making fun of his new "do" that it isn't nice to make fun of cancer patients.

And I doubt he told them that he wasn't one.



That's a good kid. And one that makes me laugh.