Dirty Nails

It's nice to have good help.

Yesterday was one of those Sunday's. I had a meeting before church, and got home just in time to do some girly hair, pack some snackies for Abby, and rush off to church. I was about 2 minutes late. And, I brought too much stuff. I think I looked a little like one of those crazy, high-octane ladies as I whisked quickly into the chapel, herding the Abby, and carrying the diaper bag, church bag, and my scriptures. Funny thing is, I was a rudie-poo last Sunday when I accused Neal of making us late, and how when he's not home on Sunday, I'm NEVER late. Never say never. I'm a big jerk. But, we've accepted that in our marriage and deal quite nicely.

Neal and Sarah left earlier, because it was obvious I might be late, and Sarah had to be there on time. Why? Because the poor dear had to give her first talk in sacrament meeting. When I got there, I couldn't see Neal anywhere. Oh, he's with the deacons, passing the sacrament. Dang it. He's rarely in our sacrament meeting, and when he is, they ask him to pass the sacrament so I can't sit next to him. Maybe he should wear a black shirt to church. . . And yesterday, he had to leave right after Sarah's talk to go give his own talk in another ward. I won't let the kids sit between us. I like having him put his arm around me. How often do we get to sit by our sweeties for an hour and ten minutes? Love it. Missed it yesterday.

So, as I'm sitting there, slightly frazzled, I look over at Kate and her fingernails are a mile long and dirty. Nice. Very nice.

Then, she smiled. Oooooo. She didn't brush her teeth.

Like I said, it was one of those Sunday's. . . . And Abby didn't make it through nursery, so she wandered the classroom of the YW and tried on everyone's shoes during the lesson. Kinda cute, if you ask me.

Lucky for me -- the Gospel Doctrine class was amazing. Seriously, so nice to learn pure doctrine, and talk about the Savior, and feel the spirit. It's been awhile since I've been able to enjoy Gospel Doctrine. Those wiggly babies usually don't make it 10 minutes in there.

Sarah did a great job on her talk. That's pretty scary. She was pretty nervous. Her hands were shaking, and her first word squeaked out. It was one of those "how the heck do they grow up so fast?" moments. I'm having them more often lately. Is there a cure?

Wrap My Big Mac, Please.

Unwrap your heart attack. Resistance was futile. I picked up my friends boy from kindergarten, and I like to spoil him. I told him to pick his drive-thru. He picked McDonalds. My intentions were to just get happy meals for him and my Abby. But then I saw it. A Big Mac Wrap. If you remember my gestational ingestion of this bad boy's big brother, the Big Mac, you will understand that I was compelled to try it. Wow! It's just the guts of a Big Mac, wrapped up in a tortilla. Classy. Yet, somehow slightly delicious. There's something in that special sauce that just keeps me coming back for more.

This has been a week of food stuff (or shall I say "weak"). I had the Big Mac Wrap, then, I saw these little bottles of soda at the Target. I had to try them! Not only was the packaging appealing, but they are made with real sugar. I guess the stuff they use now isn't real sugar? But is still rots your teeth? Must be some sort of syrup stuff they use now. Anyway, they were delicious. I'm not much of a Pepsi fan, but I do love the Dew. These "Throwback" versions of the soda are better than what they have now. They're more refreshing and don't coat your mouth. I had fun with these. Yes, that's the kind of week I'm having. . .

Then, the dog nuts. I found a recipe for baked chocolate donuts in the newspaper. I was so excited to try them. You know how I can't pass up a donut. Well, I guess there is a donut I can pass up. They turned out terrible! I don't know if the recipe was wrong, or if I just screwed up (it's been known to happen in my culinary career). Needless to say, the yeast didn't work, and they had too much flour. As I was kneading the dough, I thought it was a little stiff. . . At least the glaze was delicious. I was making them for YW, and ended up having to stop at the store to buy cupcakes. The donuts are now sitting at the bottom of my trash can, where they clunked, rather loudly I must say, this morning as I was cleaning my kitchen. Hansel and Gretle showed up at my house. Actually, they just sent Abby to blaze the trail. It's another food-related cats-ass-trophy that happened at my house this week. I've often wondered what is happening when children decide to make disastrous messes. You know, like where the heck were the parents while the child painted the inside of the garage, or dipped the cat in gasoline, etc. You see, I have yet to have a child who does this sort of thing. Maybe it's because we've always lived in a small house? Or my children are too lazy to make big messes? Who knows. As you can tell, it's not like I was napping or anything. Check out the running shoes! I'd just finished on the treadmill and was changing a load of laundry when the pancake mix poofed all over my bedroom floor.

Abigail kept saying, "Oh oh! Sorry! Oh oh! Sorry!" It was really cute.

Like I said, it's not like I was napping or anything while my child ran amok.

How to Win Friends and Influence People

No, this is NOT why my nick-name is Noodle. Fancy parlor-trick, don't you think? I taught myself to do this on a fine, boring summers day when I was 15 or so. Scared the poop out of my siblings when I came out of the bathroom with this action going on. My children have yet to see this trick. I'm waiting for just the right moment to spring it on them. I can't wait!

This photo was taken at the E. Richards Hall dorm at good old Heritage Halls back in my BYU days. Looks like I was trying to impress the gents. Hmmmm. Didn't date as much as I would have liked in those days. Although a few brave boys DID ask me out. Why?? I sent this picture to Neal while he was on his mission. Makes me wonder why he told me when he was coming home. You'd think he'd want to disapear and hope I never noticed the 2 years was up. I can imagine the thoughts and conversations when he saw that picture. "Elder Peton! You DATED this girl?! Hope she isn't waiting for you!"

We went sledding with the Youth on Saturday. Back when I was a kid, if you wanted to go sledding, you walked to Suicide Hill at Orchard Elementary. Or, if you were REALLY wanting a good hill, you walked to Hunter Park. Sledding was something you could do after school, or for a few short hours on a Saturday.

Not in Oregon. It takes all day. We had to drive to Hoodoo, which is almost 2 hours away. It was really fun. Sarah had a blast. This was her first activity in YW. It was weird hearing, "Mom?" I'm not used to that when I'm in that element.

There were no major injuries to report, unlike the broken arm last year. Except Sarah DID do a major sprain job on her left pinkie and ring finger. But not while sledding. It was when we got back to the church and were loading stuff in the van. I kept telling her to tie her shoes. She kept ignoring me. She biffed it big time in the parking lot. It was hilarious and her hat went all skeewompus. But her fingers are black, blue and swollen now. I think she learned why it's important to tie our shoes. Poor girl is a South Paw, too, which makes it hard to write and flute and eat.

Nothing Serious After 10 PM

It took Neal and I about ten years of marriage to figure out this crucial bit of wisdom that was never mentioned by our wise marriage sealer, President Winder. Or anyone else, for that matter. That wisdom/advice/counsel/marriage-saver is this: Don't discuss anything, and I mean anything, important after 10 pm. Trust me. Don't do it. Ever!

So, we try not to.

Here's an example of what our post 10 pm pillow talk sounds like now that we live that creed. This is a sentence Neal said just minutes before he started snoring --

"That would be a room full of an awful lot of robots and crap."

Nothing serious after 10 pm.

The rest of the night was not so funny. Neal has a kink in his neck, so he's messed up the bed mojo by sleeping differently. I'm going mad. According to our scientific research conducted about 2 weeks ago, after 10 pm, I might add, I require 80 - 85% of the bed. When that sacred ratio is violated, I can't sleep and I get grouchy. So, last night I couldn't sleep and I am now extremely grouchy. I spent the night on the edge of the bed, with Neal breathing snoring breaths in my face all night. I thought about going to the couch, but I was too lazy.

This morning as I dropped Kate off at school, she made me laugh a gut laugh. As she darted out of the car, her backpack was hooked to her booster seat. The booster seat came out with her, and she drug it away with her for a few leaps and bounds until she realized what was happening. That was awesome! Thanks Kate. You never disappoint.

The Holy of Bowlies

Our Church time for 2010 has been changed to 11-2. I like it much better than the 1-4 of yesteryear. Unlucky for Neal, he had to leave the house at 6:15 in the am to get to his meeting. That just sucks for a Sunday morning. I don't care HOW much you love church. It sucks.

Yesterday, I was sleeping in a wee bit. The two oldest were in the front room playing Lego Indiana Jones on the Wii. I hear Kate going on and on about "The Holy of Holies." I thought to myself, "Wow. Where did she learn about that stuff? That's like Old Testament jot-and-tittles trivia!"

When I emerged from my lair, I found her playing the video game and realized how she learned about the Holy of Holies. From said video game. I was further disappointed when I realized she was really saying, "Holy of Bowlies." Nice. It's like Kate's realization, only a mere few months ago, that we're called "MORmons." Not "WARmons." She still messes up sometimes.

And a couple of weeks ago, I was ironing the husband's shirts. I had the tv on for a little company. That company was Ellen. Sarah was sitting on my bed, watching Ellen give cool stuff away to people. Sarah said, "So that must be why she's called "Ellen the Generous."

She really thought that. I still laugh.

To Do's

Ready? Ok.

So, these past two weeks have been pretty intense. Ya gotcher Christmas happenings, a death, a really really long drive, a funeral, and visits to just about every person in my life that I love. Seriously. That's alotta stuff. It's been awesome and exhausting. Hence, the delicious cornflake-of-a-cold-sore. Blossomed just in time for me to speak at Grandma's funeral. Lovely.

Planning all this stuff created lots of "to-do's." Here are a few:

To wake up early Christmas morning with a phone call from my Mom, letting me know Grandma passed away. That was a whole bag of sad, relieved, happy, grateful, and an extra helping of sad.

To sit in my front room all by myself with only the lights of the Christmas tree, and cry and cry, and miss my grandma.

To know, a hard-core know, that I'll see her again, and smell her again, and hear her call me "Natie" again. All before dawn on Christmas morning. That's amazing.

To make the drive to Utah, yet again, and have a baby scream, and kick, and bang her head against the car seat, when we're nowhere NEAR our destination. She did not like the trip down to Utah.


30 Seconds later. . . .

To stop at the Wal-Mart in Ontario and blend perfectly with the circus. Imagine a hobo. That hobo is the world of Wal-Mart. The Wal-Mart in Ontario, Oregon is that hobo's armpit. It's a doozey. While there, Abby, who was still in pj's, by the way, puked all over herself while sitting in the Wal-Mart Subway sandwich shop. We'd already had 2 Kate barfs for the day. But Kate always pukes on trips, so that's nothing new. As we cleaned Abby off and changed her clothes, IN THE SUBWAY, I felt right at home with my fellow shoppers.

To have roads that looked like this the entire way. Seriously. Half of the gorge, and all of the roads from Pendleton to Ontario, and every square mile we drove in Idaho, had nasty roads. Most of the first day we traveled was spent going 45 mph max.

To say, "screw it!" and honeymoon in Twin Falls, Idaho. It ended up being pretty fun.

To wake up the next morning and hit the road again. But, not without a little "pick-me-up" which I shared with Abby because if I didn't, she would freak. And I do everything she says.

To have my "pick-me-up" kick in on a stretch between rest stops. "There's a Sinclair in Malta!" But, it was closed on New Years Day. So, I melted some snow right there at the corner of the building. It was a blizzard, and my bum got pelted with snow. I will always remember that Sinclair station. And laugh. Good thing I'm an expert in "pottie-in-the-woods," due to some long Saturday runs out in the country.



To spend time with nieces and nephews. I love them so much. I miss them so much.

To spend a whole week with this hunky sledder.

To teach my kids how sledding is done. Look at baby Reese and her helmet situation. Love it! She looks really excited to be there, right? Reminds me of Randy.

To get to see baby Liam's baby blessing. He's the latest Hansen addition. Laurel is having a bit of a wardrobe malfunction. Looks like Addie is enjoying it.

To be stunned into shock and speachlessness when I saw my post-gastric-bypass mother. To be stunned again when I wrapped my arms around her and she felt like one of my children. Then, to be stunned yet again as the shock wore off and my mother looked like she always should have all these years. It's like she looks like herself more than ever. She's beautiful!

To enjoy Temple Square with my family. It's a special place.

To show my children where we were married. Only it was back in the olden days with the olive tree/bench seat and when you would have been run over by a car if you stood where Kate stands.


To chill with all of my siblings and parents. Here they are, in order of appearance. Only my Mom is older than my Dad by two years, so I guess it's not in order. Dad, Mom, Angie, Ryan, Natalie, Ginger, Laurel, Lindsey and Reese. Looks like Lindsey swallowed a baby!!


To watch the nieces and nephews adore and admire Bryant. Look at Sarah's face! I love that boy. Every time I took a picture, he made sure he was in it, doing something silly.


To be crying one moment, and laughing the next. I told them not to fall into the grave.




To have an awesome visit with Angie. She let us drop in at her house, she fed us good grub, and enjoyed every moment of it. I learned a lot from her this trip. I like the Dad man, too.




To be able to put my arms around some of my favorite people in the world. Angie is flanked by Sam and his Mom, Fontella. Love them!!


To take a picture of Laurel's face that says this: "Mmmmm! Look at that male stripper that just walked out of the hearse!" And look at Bry! There he is again!


To try and hide the cold sore behind a flower.


To cry.

To laugh some more. Those boys. . .


To have a mini-baby sit awkwardly on your neck and lick your bald head. Salty!



To stop in Caldwell on the way home to visit another grandparent's grave and shed a few more tears.


It's good to be home.