fotodialer

My parents and nephew are in this commercial -- and my niece and her kids are in the others.

Sorry!

I have a confession to make:  I have a problem --- a subscription addiction.  I like to subscribe to magazines.  I  have willpower when the cost is exorbitant, but when I start getting offers for $20 for two years or even $7 for one, well then, I think, I can certainly splurge a little bit and spend seven measly dollars!  I love when a new issue arrives in the mailbox.  The cover is shiny and the binding smooth.  The front picture is always an enticing picture of what the coming months will bring -- September and October with pumpkins and gourds; November bedecked with Christmas trees and garlands; December and January full of organizational tips and helps for fulfilling resolutions;  February and March bring hope of Spring....  aaah.  I love to wait for a quiet moment to curl up in a chair and wade leisurely through the pages.  Slowly and carefully I read each sentence then close my eyes and think of how I could translate it to my house.  Often, I excitedly pull out a page or two thinking how fun it would be to make flower arrangements with the girls or make a yummy dessert with Charles.  Somewhere along the way, however, my problem has turned into a PROBLEM and I have piles of magazines everywhere!    Literally years worth.  I do not have time to curl up in said chair and I certainly do not have time to do anything slowly and carefully.  No sooner do I bring a fresh magazine up to my bedroom then the baby has viciously torn the lovely cover in two and then without a pause he heartlessly turns to the back as well.  Who wants to read a limp, old, crumply mess anyway?  So in an effort to stem the clutter and stop the tide of mail, catch up on the piles I already have and turn my attention to more important things, I, with extreme self-control and utmost effort, have refused the renewal notices coldheartedly.  I turn my back on them and say, "No!"  Last year, I stopped my subscription to House and Garden and it has gone out of business.  I stopped my subscription to Home and it has gone out of business.   I stopped my subscription to Country Home and it has gone out of business.  I stopped my subscription to Cottage Living, a publication full of great ideas for my lovely, old house, and it has gone out of business.  I stopped my subscription to Domino, a wonderful new magazine that I really enjoyed,  and --  it has gone out of business!  I just wanted to take a break, regroup, and so forth.  I was considering subscribing again at a later date.  I thought it was fine for other people to be reading them while I wasn't.  I felt secure knowing they were in the world somewhere if I needed them.   I had no idea the impact my decisions had on the world, but it looks as if I have single-handedly toppled the magazine industry!  And I feel kind of bad about it.

#942

It is 21˚ outside. Reason #942 for being a teensy bit tired of winter:

Not seeing nearly enough of these beauties! (the legs, not the diapers as lovely as they may be)

And I think they are the cat's meow!

And another pic just because he is gorgeous.

Think Spring

We had a flower birthday party for Lucy last weekend. I kept putting off journaling about it because my computer was upstairs and as we well know, my camera couldn't make the trek that far to upload the photos, and the photos were a must. We gave everyone a flower to put in their hair at the door, painted flowers on t-shirts, ate flower-shaped sandwiches, and decorated flowery cupcakes because we just cannot wait for Spring! When Lulu first mentioned that she wanted to have a party we were sitting on the floor of her bedroom surrounded by the superabundant, overflowing amounts of recreational matter that fills said chamber. It is completely and utterly ridiculous how much stuff they have! It is difficult for us to get rid of it because the girls really do play with all of it. They need to have 25 dolls because they regularly hold church services and want to have a sizable congregation. They need to have one cupboard full of Polly Pockets because they set up an entire amusement park on a regular basis. They even need 5,678 stuffed animals so they can have a fully attended school. I groaned as I imagined even more toys marching into my house hidden inside brightly colored gift bags. "Could we please have a party without any presents?" I asked tentatively. "Maybe we could even ask them to bring something for someone else that doesn't have anything?" I thought this would be a hard sell, but to my surprise, she immediately said, "Sure!" And never looked back. We had fun getting everything ready for that part before the party and then between all of the flower activities we spent some time putting together hygiene kits to give to a local shelter. They all really got into it! It was strange going straight to the candle blowing without any present opening and I must admit that I was really second-guessing myself that whole afternoon. How could I take away the best part of a birthday party from a nine year old? After it was all over, I asked her, "Was it okay that you didn't get any presents?" She quickly replied, "Oh, I liked it better that way. I really love to give things to other people. It was like Christmas!" Christmas?  I thought that was about getting gifts, too.  Apparently it is about giving.  How marvelous!  I often think that I don't deserve my kids.

Compare and Contrast

I have a neighbor who has got it all going on. She has been PTO president, helps with EVERYTHING, thin, always dressed nice, always on time, never a hair out of place, you get the idea. Inevitably, whenever I am in her presence, I do something stupid. This morning I was feeling really good about myself. I got dressed (!) -- and put on some cute new wide leg capris with some cool striped knee socks, was even wearing makeup, made beds, cleaned up breakfast, got the kids out on time, stopped at the store to get treats for Lulu's class (Happy Birthday sweetie!), pulled up to the school, but then there is a bus still there so I have to go around the other side and then SHE drives up and my car is facing the wrong direction, my daughter runs out in front of her car, the baby has snot running down his face, and I look down and my socks are now pooled around my ankles. Suddenly I am all wrong. If the kids have strewn garbage across the lawn, or their knees are bleeding, or I back into one of my bushes, or the baby is being held upside down by the toes, sure enough I can look up to see her little frown smile staring back at me, mentally shaking her head. I am a confident, completely capable adult one minute and then the next -- doh. can. not. func. tion. don't. know. own. name. need. help.

There are other times I feel this way and it is often at church. The women there are not judgmental (usually :), but something happens to my brain when I enter that building. Before Sunday, a friend asked if we could meet after church to plan Activity Days for the next few months. I said sure and then the wind blew and it was gone. After the first hour I ran into her in the bathroom and she asked if I was coming to our meeting. I said sure, then thought how nice it would have been if I had brought lunch -- oh and something for the kids, too -- and the baby will probably be wanting a nap around then, why did I say yes to the meeting? Then the wind blew and it was gone. After church I start rounding up the kids and their coats and then I see her -- Oh! I am staying after. I cannot remember things for five stinking seconds! (Of course, this is the same Sunday I had my shirt on backward so maybe we can chalk it up to being a bad day -- but these are not isolated incidents). And other people are always prepared, have great ideas, are so talented... I am grateful for them. They pick up my slack.

I suppose I need to reconcile myself to the way I am, but where is the line between acceptance and using the negative as an impetus to do and be better? I don't know. It is a constant struggle and in the meantime I need to paste on that smile and wave to Miss Perfect over there -- "So glad you caught that -- have a wonderful day!"

Does This Calzone Make Me Look Fat?

Yesterday I decided to have the Weight Watchers brand frozen entree "Calzone Italiano" for lunch. I saw it at the store and thought, "Wow, that looks pretty good for 6 points. I will try it." I opened the box and noticed that it contained two calzones. Oh, good. I looked down at the instructions and here is what I read: "Remove one Calzone (one serving) and one sleeve from plastic wrapper. Return second Calzone to the freezer." (Bolds and italics snidely included).

Here is what I heard: "Listen, we know you have a weight problem or else you wouldn't have bought this delicious looking product. However, you cannot possibly imagine that both pieces of this cheesy goodness would be allowable within your alloted points. We know that you wouldn't have ended up in this situation if you possessed any semblance of self-control and/or the ability to read your body's cues, so here is what you need to do. You need to quickly wrap up the second calzone and pack it tightly back into the box. Now do this at once before you have inhaled it without realizing. Next, you need to run over to the refrigerator (the thing that got you into this mess), open the freezer door, launch the remaining calzone into any available spot (we know there probably isn't much room since you are more than likely hoarding chocolate in there), resecure the door, and back quietly away before you do any more damage."

What a bossy box! I don't know if I have ever before encountered a box with such explicit ideas about what I can and cannot do with my own food. How did it know if I was going to share it with someone (I was) or how did it know I wasn't going to throw caution to the wind and eat an entire 12 points in one sitting?

Later in the evening, Matthew came home and had heard that they were serving free pancakes at IHOP in honor of National Pancake Day. Who knew? So, of course, we all piled in the car and went. Forget that it was already past the girls bedtime, forget that the youngest three were already in pajamas, and forget that the two eldest had homework. It was fun, it was late, we all ate every last bite. We weren't hungry but it was free and it was there. Ah-ha, dear Watson! I believe we have discovered the root of our problem.

Mysterious Ways

On Sunday I had got to teach the lesson. When I woke up I prayed that everything would go well and that I would feel confident and prepared. I then proceeded to calmly get ready for church. Ha - Picture if you will a typical Sunday morning. Matthew leaves in the wee hours, five other people clamoring for privileges in the one bathroom, girls arguing, baby holding onto leg (mine) screaming, no one breakfasting, sliding into the pew at two minutes to 9:00 with a sigh... But that wasn't where I was going with this. So the baby hadn't been fed in all the commotion so I head into the mother's lounge for a little snuggle, leaving the other kids to fend for themselves which doesn't always work out, and smallest girl was eventually brought in by oldest girl to join me. Again, not my point. I feed the baby, sit him up, pat his back, and soon he spits up all over my shirt and down into my lap. And it isn't somewhere as acceptable as my shoulder, just right smack dab down the middle. He has drifted away from being so explosive so of course I had nothing to wipe it all up. A friend kindly offered some wipes, but it still left its mark. Oh no! I knew I was soon going to be standing in front all of the nicely dressed women with my lovely white badge proclaiming to all the world that yes, I am the mother of a small child. I rush everyone to their respective classes, make copies for my lesson, go sit down in Sunday School and soon it is time for another feeding session. I find myself once again in the lounge, funnily enough with the same friend, and exclaim as I notice that I have had my shirt on backward for the last two hours! I am filled with chagrin. It seems I cannot even dress myself properly. My friend then points out that since the front (I mean the back that was on the front... are you following this?) is dirty, I could now just turn it around. Genius! And since my lesson was on the talk Pray Always we figured it was a great example of the power of prayer. I prayed and then since Heavenly Father knew what was going to happen, the Holy Ghost inspired me to put my shirt on the wrong way so that I could then switch it and wear the fresh side while I taught. He knew that I probably wouldn't have even thought of turning it around to be backward after the "incident," but maybe next time I will...