Neti's Nonsense.

Neti "Fatty McButter Pants" Call

2012-01-25T14:41:00.000-08:00

(Please don't be offended by this post. I'm simply describing my thoughts.)
My gym has a Biggest Loser competition. I was there last night during the "opening ceremony" and I got to see all the hopefuls. Some people are merely chubby, like me. Some people are pretty big. And then there are those people that you just really really want to stick with the program because they are the kind of folks that reality shows are made about.
I was knocking out push-ups when the contestants started to parade in front of us. I was dripping on the floor and I looked up and had an epiphany.
Last week in Sunday School, I taught the lesson about how you're either on the path to God or you're not, and it's every little decision you make every day that decides what path you're on.
When I look at a morbidly obese person, I feel 2 things:

I feel pity and disgust. (I know, I'm a terrible person.)
I feel scared.

Why do I feel scared? Because I see my face on their body. I see a distorted image of my own body. I see where those french fries I crave will send me. I see the consequences of eating the way I WANT to eat.

If you put all these together, it becomes that I disgust myself when I don't make correct choices. My everyday decisions about what food I eat and what I drink and how I move are what decide my outcome. I'm either on the path to Health or I'm not.

All this said, I'm not giving up my pizza.

(Insert Witty Title)

2012-01-22T18:18:00.000-08:00

Sometimes, I get thoughts that spend a fleeting moment in my conscious mind that seem so humorous or so wise, that I think that I need to share these thoughts with my friends in Bloggerlandia.
Then I forget.
Age + Kids = I forget a lot of stuff.
...
What was I talking about?

Elena's Take on Christmas

2011-11-20T18:53:00.000-08:00

The stories and miricales of Jesus, Birth of the king. (by Elena)

"Once apon a time their was a women named Mary. One day in her garden, an

angel came to Mary and spoke. Mary told Josef about the news. Mary and Josef traved to Bethlahem. An innkeeper led them to a stable. There Jesus was born. That night, three sheperd came and saw the born king. The next night, the the wise men came. They gave Jesus gifts. The very same night Mary and Josef escaped to Egypt with Jesus. They went back when god told Josef that the wiced king was dead. THE END"

Princess Photography

2011-11-10T11:41:00.000-08:00

I gave Leah the camera and told her to photograph things in the backyard that she thought were beautiful. Here's what she came up with:

Leah says, "This is good and lovely and cool."

"I like dad's plants. They're cool."

"I like them because they have sooooo many leaves.
I wish I could keep them forever."

"weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

"Birds eat their food from here! And I think they'll grow up."

"That's me! haha!"

Of my favorite pictures, I like the last one the best. Leah knows that the most beautiful thing in the backyard is HER. Wouldn't it be great if we all felt the same way about ourselves?

Exercise Science

2011-10-29T10:02:00.000-07:00

When did working out become so complicated?
I remember my first experience with working out (before junior high volleyball it was called "playing" or "practicing") was in 8th grade. Coach Smith would take us all to the weight room and we'd lift weights for half hour. We'd basically go in the weight room in whatever clothes we had on, do whatever, then leave. No special knowledge required.
Tonight, I'm getting ready to go meet with a trainer at the gym. I put on special wicking workout clothes. I need moleskin on my ankles under my special arch-support socks. My shoes have different custom insoles. I'm going to take my weight-lifting gloves. Then I go to the gym where I meet with someone who tells me what exercises to do for an hour until I hate him. Then I hop on the treadmill until I hate me.
When I was a teen, I'd eat whatever before and half a pizza after workouts. Now, it's all about protein before, protein after (but not too long after), which carbs are good, which fats are good, supplements, how much water, don't forget the fiber, white fish not salmon too often, etc etc etc.
Before it was "lift a few weights and run a few laps so we don't get in trouble for messing around." Now, it's no static stretching before workouts, 5 mins cardio, weights which compliment or supplement muscle groups, cardio after, static stretching after, resistance training 3x a week, cardio 5x a week, yoga once in a while to keep joints supple, interval training, super sets, classes to give your body a shock in the system, etc etc etc.
I remember in high school I took a Strengthening and Conditioning class. I could do 90 crunches in a minute. Tuesday I took a RIPPED class. I did 10 crunches in a minute and was dang proud of myself.
I guess with all the science and knowledge we get as we grow older, one thing we can never get back is that bottomless supply of energy we had when we were young.
I'm fine with that. I'm happy with my "aging process" and feel like I have learned so much about nutrition and exercise in the past 20 years. Plus, I think maybe doing 90 crunches in a minute isn't really expected from someone who's had 3 cesareans and is still a little on the chubby side.

8 Days to Freedom

2011-10-11T13:29:00.000-07:00

As many of you know, I had a hard time with the whole decision to become a mother. Once I made that choice, though, I decided to give it all I had, even if it was tough. One of those "tough" parts, for me, was breastfeeding.
Don't worry, no gory details or weird boobies-are-fine-to-show-if-there's-a-kid-attached pictures here. It was just tough to learn how to do it right, and it hurts a lot the first while each time you do it. Honestly, if my mom hadn't been here when Elena was first born, I may have just given up.
I'm so glad that we made it over those hurdles. Since Josef was born, I've been counting the days (sometimes literally) until he was a year old and I could wean him.
That count, today, is 8.
That number, today, makes me sad.
Josef is our last baby, our Benjamin, if you will. This is my last baby to hold in my arms and feed in a way nobody else can. This is my last baby to have special cuddles with in the middle of the day and fall asleep while he's nursing.
Now that we're just over a week away, Josef is ready to be weaned from the breast, but I'm not ready to be weaned from nursing.
Believe me when I say I never thought I'd say that last sentence. I've always hated nursing, but now I'm sad to see it go.
Maybe we can wean in 2 weeks instead of 1. Or next month.

I Don't Know Nuthin'

2011-09-28T11:03:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking a lot about how people learn and how people teach lately. It's a constant theme in my home, as my husband is a school teacher, I teach my kids stuff that moms are supposed to, I teach Sunday School, and other teachy things.
There are several ways people learn. I think a lot of it has to do with how people teach, or their communication skills. For example, I know this kid* who's barely old enough to be in college (though she isn't and has never been) and she writes this blog to share her wisdom. I also know someone* who's a bit older (than me) and he love to "one-up" people on Facebook and blogs. Like if you write, "I have a headache!" he will write "Me too!" or if you write, "My friend brought me cookies," he will write, "My spouse makes the BEST cookies!" You get the point. Another example of this is that there's yet another person who is always right. No matter the argument, they are never wrong and only admit defeat if it's absolutely the last option.
These three people teach in ways they may not think about. The first teaches arrogance through trying to appear wise. The second's one-upmanship is annoying, at best, and teaches you to not post anything that will give him an inch. The third is a bubble bursting with pride and teaches that it's not smart to disagree with them, unless you have all day to fight every possible argument.
These really aren't lessons people want to learn.
What's tough is that usually people don't know they are teaching these things. I recently was reminded that I am person #3 in this instance, something which is told me every few years, I try to work on, and then forget about until they tell me that's my issue again. I'm pretty sure that they are wrong, though. Let me figure out a loophole.

Leave Joe Alone

2011-08-23T15:53:00.000-07:00

In the age old fight of nature vs nurture, I would like to throw in my 2¢.
My little JoeJoe is one of the most independent babies I have ever seen. Yes, he likes to be held and cuddled and loved, but he loves to play alone. Neither of my older kids ever liked to play alone (much to my chagrin). Now that I am on my last kid and trying to squeeze out every "last" with him, he'd rather sit on the floor and chew on a car or kiss a babydoll.
what makes him so independent when my girls still need direction in their playtime? One could argue that they were raised by the same mom in the same environment (they were even delivered by the same doc in the same hospital!) and so they should have the same comportment. That is not the case. You've never seen such different kids. The oldest is reserved and calculating. The second is a ham and sensitive. And baby? He's his own man. At ten months, he's more socially independent than my 6 year old.
thank goodness for the proverbial "spice of life." I love to see my kids' differences and celebrate who they really are.

---------------

P.S. Is it wrong to use a pastry scraper to change this kid's diapers?

I Like You and I Love You

2011-07-30T12:20:00.000-07:00

The other night I was helping my kid in and out of the shower when I noticed she was writing me a backwards message in the shower steam. She wrote

"MAMA. I LIK3 YOU AND I LOV3 YOU."

Ok, so e's are hard to write backwards, but you get the drift.
Her simple expression of love got me thinking. It's not really easy to love someone AND like them. Indeed, as a mother, it's not rare for me to dislike my kids now and then, while still loving them. Sometimes I don't even like Dan very much, even though I love him more than anyone else loves their spouse. I'm sure he doesn't like me sometimes, as well, but that's no big surprise to anyone who knows me.
I think, though, that's the trick to a happy relationship (no matter what that relationship be), is to like the person and love them.
Perhaps the tricky part is really being likable and lovable so that the other person will like and love you back.
But for now, just let me say this:

Mi Nena, I like you and I love you, too.

How do you say it?

2011-07-18T16:59:00.000-07:00

In Spanish, it's "patada de ahogado."
In TVland, it's "jumping the shark."
You know when you take one last desperate stab at something, hoping it will be the thing that saves you?
Well, I'm stabbing. Not sure what I'm stabbing at, but this little knife is doing some serious damage.
Lately I've felt kind of empty or something. I can't really explain it.
(Before you ask, yes, I'm taking my happy pill. Yes, I'm reading my scriptures. Yes, I'm drinking water. No, I don't have thyroid issues.)
So what am I going to do about this?
I'm not sure. Maybe lay out. Vitamin D is supposed to help, right? But, wait, I take a VitD supplement every night.
Maybe exercise more? Like 6 days a week instead of 5? Run some 2-a-days? Um, no.
I'm generally happy. Just... I don't know... lonely?
Not for lack of Dan. He's around all the time and he's fabulous.
I get plenty of "me" time, too, so that isn't it. I think I might need more friend time. I miss my Utah friends terribly sometimes, which is weird because they are kind of dorky.
I need friends who don't want to talk kids or diapers or daycare or husband problems all the dang time. Sometimes? Fine. Not always. Also, I need friends who I can hang out with, not that I have to make appointments to see. Or fly halfway around the planet to visit. I mean, I need those friends, too... I just need more accessible people to fill in the in-between times, you know?

Geez, am I 12 or 35? I feel dumb admitting this whole thing but it's kind of cathartic as well.

Maybe I'll go for another run today. My iPod is my friend.

Bob

2011-06-19T11:30:00.001-07:00

I've been thinking a lot about my dad lately. Maybe it's because every time I'm with my parents, my mother reminds me how our personalities are alike. Maybe it's because he's leaving for a year and a half and I won't see him. Maybe it's because today is Father's day and I'm not with him.
I remember when he and my mom were on their first senior mission on Father's Day. Dan's dad was also away with his wife as missionaries and Dan and I weren't parents yet. It was an empty day. I remember coming home from church and thinking, "Well, now what?" I don't think I've ever missed my dad as much as I missed him that day.
My dad is a pretty amazing guy. He could write a book with all the adventures he's had in his life. Sometimes he looks a little scary but really he's just a big ol' teddy bear. There's no problem in the world that a hug from my dad can't solve.
Am I too old to still look at my father through rose-colored glasses? Perhaps, but I'm well aware of his shortfalls. Most of them are mine as well. Maybe this bias is due to the fact that I felt cheated, at times, of daddy-time when I was growing up. My dad worked long days (as did my mom), and now I feel like every moment I get to spend with them is precious.
Every girl needs a dad who can both make her feel like a princess and teach her how to shove a bad guy's nose into his brain. That's my dad, and I love him.

The New (to us) House

2011-05-04T19:11:00.001-07:00

As previously stated, I wanted to write about our journey to become homeowners once again. You may remember we bought a small condo last time we lived in Tacoma. It was great for us, just the right size and the right price. I loved the circular layout and was sad to see it go.
When we started house hunting this time around, I was sure we'd end up in a junker that we'd end up paying a fortune to fix up.
Then, it happened. We walked into this house and had a movie moment. You know how when you walk into a house and know that's where you're supposed to live? When you picture your kids as teens thundering up and down the stairs, and you see family bbqs in the backyard, and you see your kids complaining because they have to weed and the dog you don't have yet running in the yard? That's what I saw.
This place was priced a little higher than what we wanted to pay, but we could still afford it. It's a little more rural than I imagined living, but it's not too far away from stuff. Someone had bought it as a foreclosure and tried to flip it, but the remodeling work isn't the greatest and we still have a lot of stuff to take care of inside, but not nearly as much as with some of the other houses we were looking at. Plus, it has a bay window. As in, what I've dreamed of owning for my whole life.
I'm pretty sure Dan saw the look in my eyes and knew I was a goner.
We made an offer, and after much negotiating, we almost lost the house due to a low appraisal. It felt almost like losing a family member (not a close one, but a distant one you still really liked).
Thankfully, the sellers were ready to let go of this place and we bought it.
It took a lot of time, repairs, prayers, and phone calls to finally seal the deal, but May 3, 2011, this house (yet to be named) is now ours. Casa Call. La Sebastiana. Bag End. Toad Hall. Whatever.
Mi Casa es Mi Casa, but you're still welcome to visit.

Hiatus

2011-05-03T15:28:00.001-07:00

I hadn't meant for so much time to pass between postings. The truth is, I wanted to post when we closed on our new house at the end of March a whole post about what this house means to me, personally and to my family as well.
Somehow, the closing date for the end of March got pushed to early April, then mid April, then end of April.
We finally closed today, May 3.
I still want to share my feelings about the house with you, but not right now. My arms are tired from fighting dandelions.
Never fear, anyone-who's-still-reading-this, I'll be back soon to tell you all about it.

Out of the Mouths of Babes

2011-03-21T07:45:00.001-07:00

Last night, Elena asked her father if he knew what a Publican was.

Dan said yes, he did.

Elena asked him to explain what he knew.

Dan said, "A publican used to go around, gathering money from people to give to the kings or the government - the people who do things for other people.. That way, with that money, they can run the country and provide services for the people living there."

Elena said, "Wrong, Dad. A publican was a tax collector."

(photo info: I was feeding Josef, reading a book in the living room while the girls were watching tv. I looked over, and Elena was like this. What else could I do but snap a picture?)

Stolen Wisdom

2011-03-15T09:11:00.000-07:00

My friend Amy (who's a terrific baker and photographer) had this posted on her facebook and I stole it from her. It's ok, because she stole it from Einstein. :)

"The woman who follows the crowd will usually go no further than the crowd. The woman who walks alone is likely to find herself in places no one has ever been before."
— Albert Einstein

An Odd Thought

2011-02-26T22:28:00.000-08:00

You know how people in movies sometimes inject themselves in the heart in life-or-death situation with something or the other that keeps them alive when nothing else will?
I don't think I could ever do that.
Why?
Because I don't know exactly where my heart lies. Sure, it's somewhere under my left boobage, but where?
When women pledge allegiance, we put our hands clear up by our necks. Men pledge with their hand near their waist.
So where the heck is my heart? Where would I inject that whatever it is that will save my life?
I hope to never be in a situation where I think, "Gee, maybe I should have figured that out. Now I'm gonna die because it appears I just injected that thing into my spleen." Or whatever.

I Hope They Call You on a Mission...

2011-02-21T16:13:00.000-08:00

In the Mormon world, proselyting is a big thing. Most 19 year old boys are encouraged to go out for 2 years to teach and preach and do what missionaries do. Some 21 year old females do the same, but for 18 months instead of 24. Also, retired couples can go out for anywhere from 6 months to 3 years, depending on what kind of mission they are participating in.

Missionaries really don't have much say in where they go or what they do. Especially the younger kids. My oldest brother served in Mexico, the other went to Northern California (though he specifically requested to not go to California), and my younger brother went to Guatemala. I did my time in Southern California. My father and mother spent a year in Mexico 7 years ago. My in-laws spent 3 years in Chile around that same time. Currently, I have a nephew in Argentina who will be done in November of this year and another nephew in Bolivia who still has over a year and a half to serve.

So why the post about missionaries?

My folks have requested to go on another mission.

Though I am sad at the thought of them being gone for 2 or so years, I'm really excited for them. My dad in particular is chomping at the bit to be able to go out and work as missionaries do.
Here's the thing. We don't know where or when they are going yet. We assumed they'd get the letter telling them all the deets 2 weeks ago when they were on their trip, or even last week after they came home from their vacay, but it didn't come. That leaves this week. Cross your fingers, say your prayers, light a candle, whatever it is that you do, do it for my folks. It's time for them to get that letter that says Mozambique or Timbuktu.

Dear Santa (or whomever)

2011-01-31T15:12:00.001-08:00

Do you know what I'd really like? More than anything else?
I'd like to breathe.
Someone work on that for me, ok? I'm getting sick of this not breathing thing.

Ang-eoplasty

2011-01-15T10:04:00.000-08:00

My newest train-wreck is a little show on E! called Bridalplasty. If you haven't seen it (first of all, consider yourself lucky), it's a reality show where the contestants - all imminent brides -- compete for plastic surgery. Seriously. And it is impossible to not watch when it's on the screen in front of you.
Today I went to the workout room in my apartment complex. It was completely deserted, so I turned on the tv, which was on E!, one of the 3 channels it's ever tuned to, the others being ESPN and BET.
Because my attention span is so short, if I'm not talking to someone while running, I need a book/magazine, television and an ipod. All 3.
Since I run intervals, I decided to watch Bridalplasty while running and read my book, Eat, Pray, Love, while walking. Music was for stretching and weight lifting.
Now, I'm not sure if it was the stark contrast between the book and the show, or if it was Alanis screaming in my ear, or maybe it was the "I'm-so-fat" meltdown I had yesterday (and this morning, but something really clicked in my brain.
Nobody is really happy with themselves.
Nobody.
And that's ok.
If we didn't see our own flaws then we couldn't fix them.
I'm not saying go out and get rhinoplasty, but then again, I'm not saying don't. If you can fix what you don't like, maybe you should. Or maybe you should fix the part of you that doesn't like your nose, or get rid of the boyfriend who thinks you need bigger boobs.
I need to fix the way I see food, but mostly I need to fix the way I see myself.
I'm not saying it's fate, but at the end of the episode I saw today, as I was thinking these deep thoughts, Netty got voted off.
By the way, the best part of Bridalplasty is at the end of the show where the girl who is going home gets told, "You'll still have your wedding, it just won't be perfect." WHAAAT? I think the first thing these girls should get fixed is the fact that they let someone tell them that and that they believe it.
I need to reexamine what crap I believe as well.

Suckahhhhs!

2011-01-12T08:08:00.001-08:00

Add this to the reasons I love the Pacific Northwest:
Last night, it snowed one inch. One.Inch. As in, you could still see most of the grass pocking up through the little bit of snow. It's 45 degrees outside right now at 8 a.m. We got a call at 6 in the morning telling us that school would be on a 2 hour late start because of the storm.
Bwa ha ha ha!
Last night, the whole family was at the church house until 7 pm. When it was time to leave, I bundled up the baby in his hat and bodysuit/overall/little-lamb outfit. Imagine the kid on Christmas Story, but as a 3 month old.
As soon as we stepped outside, someone rushed up to me and said "It's snowing! Get that kid inside!" Yeah. This was at the beginning of the huge 1 inch snowstorm. It was maybe 35 degrees out and the walk to my car was 10 yards, maybe.
By the way, the snow melted right after the announcement was made for late start.
Yahooooo!!

Calgon? Where are you?

2011-01-11T14:04:00.000-08:00

I'm pretty sure that grocery shopping with an infant and a toddler during some freak Run-on-the-Store means I deserve a medal, brownie points with God, or at least some chocolate and ddp.

New TV Show Idea

2011-01-02T16:41:00.000-08:00

I found myself on all fours the other day, studying the peanut butter stains on the carpet. I determined who made the stains, what part of the body the pb was smooshed on, and where else possible stains would be hiding, all from the freshness of the "evidence" and the direction the carpet fibers were laying.
Then it hit me: this is a crime scene drama in the making!

MOMMY

No, we don't usually recognize exactly the forensics of our "job," but we've all been there. We know who stole the last cookie from the smudges on little cheeks. We know who didn't brush their teeth by our overactive olfactory. We know when closets are stuffed with the stuff we told them to put away, when homework wasn't done, and when a kid is crying simply because they are too tired.

Sure, it sounds impossible. But "impossible" is in our repertoire as well.
What do you think? Would the networks buy the series? I'm guessing no, as nobody wants to see a mom in sweats guessing what the stain is on their kid's shorts.

I Need Zzzzzs

2010-12-14T09:23:00.000-08:00

My dear son Pepe (almost 2 months old) is going through a growth spurt. For those of you who don't know what that entails, it means he eats CONSTANTLY. Not just eating a lot every few hours, but he eats every hour, even at night.

This-- if you hadn't figured it out on your own-- sucks.

I feel like one giant boob. All I am good for is feeding this kid. My house is a mess. My to-do list is getting longer. My 4 year old needs my attention. And guess who is hungry. Again.

Mercifully, at 4 am, Dan got up and made the man-child a bottle so I could sleep more than 30 minutes straight. However, after the kid finished the bottle, he came and latched on and nursed some more.

I'm dying here, people.

Seriously, if Pepe isn't nursing or crying to nurse, he's sucking on my chin or staring at my chest while whimpering.

It's been less than a day since this feeding frenzy started, and I'm already exhausted.

Quick, who can give me some non-caffeine, non-calorie-ridden pick-me-up suggestions? I need help.

Elenaisms (for the bilingual crowd)

2010-12-07T08:04:00.000-08:00

Last night we had Family Home Evening, which is Mormonese for 1 night a week we spend as a family talking about God and enjoying being together. I had recorded a Christmas program to watch together as a family for last night's lesson/activity. Elena didn't like that idea. She asked if we could just read out of Santa's scriptures. Dan and I exchanged glances, thinking "who's going to explain to this kid about how Santa isn't in the scriptures?"

We turned back to Elena, and asked her what she meant. She looked at us like we were idiots. "You know, la Santa Biblia?"

Ahhhh.

The 2nd Oldest Profession

2010-12-02T09:14:00.000-08:00

I'm the first person who will tell you that motherhood is a tough gig. Perhaps it's because I don't have that special "mom gene" that makes me swoon over babies or cry tears of joy at Mother's Day primary programs. I never considered the possibility of being a mom until I married Dan and inexplicably wanted to bear his children.
Now, with 3 little ones running my life, it's not getting any easier. Don't get me wrong, I love my children more than I ever thought possible, but I can't help but be a little jealous of my friends who can up and go whenever and wherever without having to take into consideration babysitters, feeding times, or diaper bags. I'll be 35 this month. According to my life plan, I should have been practicing law for nearly 10 years, having made partner and with that corner office within grasp. I should have had my first book published. I should have a bikini body and spend hours in the gym every day.
Do you know what I have instead?

I have a daughter who reminds me so much of me when I was little that it makes me want to go out and give her everything I ever wanted as a kid. I have another daughter who can make strangers smile and brighten a room. And I have a little bitty boy who sighs with contentment whenever I pick him up. I have a body that has made these 3 children, survived through 3 operations to extract them, and that can feed my babies when they are little. I have a husband who adores me even though I don't deserve it and who is the best father I could hope for my kids. I guess the corner office can wait a few more years.

I'm So Screwed

2010-11-23T14:56:00.000-08:00

Do you ever get caught up in an idea, an emotion, and follow blindly? Mob mentality, if you will. Well, I did this week in a major way.
When I got pregnant with Pepe, I was in training to run a half marathon with my buddy Noelle.
When I started barfing on people's lawns, I knew it was time to stop running.
Now that I'm no longer preggo-puking, I decided to find another half to finish what I started. I found a great one, and I'm excited to run it next summer. I'm still carrying baby weight, though, plus I was (at least) 10 lbs overweight before I got pregnant, so I need to lose the weight quick.
Quickest way for me to lose weight? You guessed it: RUNNING.
Soooo, I decided to set a lofty goal for running for 2011. I figured 250 miles in one year was good, because that would leave me plenty of days to do other exercises, not just running.
In stepped Carrie, a friend from high school. She offered to run the miles with me, as long as I set a loftier goal.
Ten minutes of facebook posts later, we ended up with 2011 miles in 2011, run between me, Carrie, and our mutual friend Natalie.
Holy tamales, I'm screwed.
My only consolation is that Carrie (who used to spell her name Caré, btw) and Natalie both run a ton (even if they say they don't). Dan says I can't let them carry me, but I know that they'll both probably log more miles than me... I'm totally fine with that.
So, follow our progress here and wish me luck. I'm going to need it.

More on the Little Guy

2010-11-04T08:43:00.000-07:00

Ok, here's some more about baby Josef.

He was born weighing 8 lbs, 3 oz and then lost 1 pound + 1 ounce, which concerned the pediatrician. The kid eats like crazy (or like a Pickett, as my mom says). He finally started gaining weight, but isn't up to his birth weight. The doc says we're not out of the woods yet, but Josef is out of the danger zone.

Aside from that, Josef is an absolute joy in our home. He sleeps well at night, doesn't cry much, and is cute as a button.

What's that? You want to see photos? Sure!

Josef's first smile.On the way home from the hospital.

If he's not sleeping, he's nursing.

I love this little argyle sleeper.

The More You Know...

2010-10-29T18:46:00.000-07:00

I don't know what goes through our minds as parents.
We think that - because we're older - we know what's best for our kids. We 're sure that - because we're read the books or lived through whatever our kids are going through - that we have the right answer.
I learn over and over again that this philosophy isn't necessarily always right.
For example, today baby Josef was crying because he couldn't get a good latch to nurse. I was getting frustrated; he was getting frustrated. Princess LeiLei came and sat next to us on the bed, trying to kiss her little brother and just adding for my frustration.
I said "LeiLei, please leave me alone with your brother so he can concentrate on eating. If you're here, you'll just distract him." That's what the books say. Nurse in a quiet, calming environment. I don't know a single 3 year old that is quiet or calming.
She looked at me with indignation. "I have to sing a song to Josef."
"Fine," I thought. Just get it over with.
Folks, by the time that sweet little angel finished singing, her little brother was completely calm and ready to eat.

Take that, Dr. Spock.

And here they are...

2010-10-15T12:28:00.000-07:00

As previously mentioned, I got maternity shots taken. Here are a couple of my favorites.
I can't believe that I will only be pregnant (at the most) 4 more days in my entire life. Don't get me wrong, pregnancy blows and it's hard and I really hate being sick and hurty and fat all the time. But when the baby responds to my voice, when he moves and I can see him wiggle under my skin, when he "answers" my questions, when I learn a little more about him that nobody in the whole world knows, it makes me a little sad that this will never happen again.
Such is life. Every stage is difficult and exciting.
Here's to closing one door and opening another.

This picture I love, just me and my belly.
The overdone heart made out of hand shot ended up being one of my favorites.

And, of course, a shot with the only person in the world I'd ever go through this torture for/with. He's great, don't ya think? I do. <3

Stupid, Stupid, Stupid

2010-10-12T17:07:00.000-07:00

I made a beef stew. It was pretty amazing, I must admit. In the Argentine style, I was going to put in some noodles at the end of the cooking process (guiso de fideos) so I left the stew a little watery. When I realized I didn't have any egg noodles, I decided to thicken the stew using my little blender and potato starch. I did so and it was beautiful.
As I was putting away the potato starch, I realized that it wasn't potato starch, but powdered sugar instead. How is it possible to confuse the two? Well, I keep things like that in tupperware containers so they stack neatly in the cupboard, and I grabbed the wrong one.
Now my delicious stew tastes like I made it with ketchup instead of tomatoes.
awe.some.

Something New

2010-09-15T19:24:00.000-07:00

My friend has a friend who is just starting out as a maternity photographer and wants to build her portfolio. So I did something I've never done before. I posed for belly pictures.
Don't get me wrong, I didn't do any of those creepy-naked-strategically-placed-hands pictures, or anything tasteless. We just did a bunch of shots of me loving on my belly. It was strange, but I'm really glad I documented this time in my life.
Another friend once shared a poem with me that I think of often titled "As if You Were My Last" or something to that extent. I was thinking about how this is my last pregnancy and how I had always shied away from pictures because I don't like the way my body looks. Then, a friend tragically lost a 4 month pregnancy. These 2 things combined made me realize that I really need to count my blessings and appreciate the miracle that is happening in me. I'm still self-conscious about how I look and how much weight I've gained, but I had the pictures done anyway and feel really great about it.
We'll see if I post a couple when the proofs arrive. Maybe not, though. I did this for me, not for anyone else.

Washingon, whut WHUT!

2010-08-26T10:49:00.000-07:00

So our move to Washington has been a success so far.
It was a bumpy road at first, mostly for Dan and and Sparky, since they drove here. The Princess and I flew for 2 reasons: (1) She's 3 and a pain on long drives, and (2) I'm big uncomfortable pregnant and the idea of sitting in a cramped car for 14 hours made me cry.
So Dan was a lifesaver and suggested we fly. My father-in-law rode in the car with Dan, and Dan's cousin Mauricio offered to drive his 20 food trailer jam packed with all our crap.
When they arrived, there were 15-20 people from the ward just sitting outside, waiting to help move stuff in. It was pretty amazing and went really fast, especially compared to the help we got in Taylorsville (not as much).
Since being here, we've had a fun time reconnecting with old friends, going on walks at our favorite little bitty lake, Wapato Lake, meeting new friends,

swimming just about every day at the apartment pool,

and enjoying our favorite place in Tacoma, Point Defiance.

Also, next week, Sparky starts kindergarten! Such a big girl. She's even riding the school bus, even though it's less than a mile away. We went to orientation this week and she is soooo excited!

Please note the shirt she's wearing in this picture. It was mine when I was little.

It's a good feeling, to come home again. Thanks for 3 good years, Utah. And thanks for welcoming us back, Washington.

Why Going to Church in Spanish is Better

2010-08-12T09:57:00.000-07:00

When we came back to Washington, we decided to come back to our old religious stomping grounds, the Spanish Branch of the Tacoma Stake. It's now Buenavista Ward (I know, mumbo jumbo for all you who are not LDSese speakers). So fun to see old faces, and though we love love love our old English-speaking ward (with a splash of Viets), this place just feels like home.
Here's why:

I honestly prefer to speak Spanish, though most of you would probably not say that it's my native tongue. My mama spoke it to me when I was a little, and therefore I consider it my family language.
This ward has a great mix of people from different countries. Where else do you learn that the word "beans" can translate to frijoles, porotos, havas, judias, habichuelas, etc, depending on who's saying the word?
I have a pretty singing voice in this ward. My voice doesn't suck normally, but we don't have any pro singers here (anymore) and I'd say that 90% of the people can't hold a tune in a bucket, yet that doesn't keep anyone from singing. Not great for group hymnals, but great for my singing self-esteem.
Getting a kiss when you get to church is a lot more welcoming than a handshake.
Since most of the people in our congregation started coming to church in the past 10 years, it's easy to stick to the meat-and-potatoes aspect of the Gospel. None of this Where-is-Kolob discussion going on in Sunday School. We actually read out of the Bible and talk about what we read. Amazing concept.
The day after we moved in, there was a women's activity where we learned how to (1)make tortillas, (2)make granola (3)make cheese, and (4) -I am NOT making this up - how to kill and prepare a chicken for dinner. I'm telling you, every inch of that chicken was used, including the skin from the neck which was stuffed with chopped garlic, herbs, and innards to make a sausage. I kid you not.

There are lots of other reasons why I love going to church in Spanish, but I wanted to write my few favorites, before I start getting frustrated with everyone having 3 jobs, disorganization, and general pandemonium at the ward level. Counting my blessings before I forget to, in a manner of speaking.
I'll get to the deets about our moving to Washington soon, I hope.

Ok, I'll Admit it...

2010-07-10T17:44:00.000-07:00

...Utah has been good to us.

Sure, sometimes it's friggin cold here.

Sure, sometimes it's friggin hot here.

Sure, 3 of my family members had serious health issues.

Sure, we took a HUGE pay cut to come here and wiped out our savings the first year we were here.

Sure, Dan worked 2 jobs and went to school and we seldom saw him.

But you know what? In spite of it all, we've had a good 3 years. It's been good to be near our folks and to occasionally see our sibs. It's been great for the girls to spend time with family and build memories (or at least make movies) that will last for years to come. We've met some amazing people and strengthened friendships that already existed. We learned (or are still in the process of learning) how to live within our means and be thankful for what we have. I've been able to run 2 5ks, 1 10k, and take part in my first ever sprint triathlon. We were able to spend more time in the mountains and canyons - a goal of ours - and appreciate the beauty of this area. Dan, in spite of crazy hours, was able to get a kick-A GPA in his masters program and complete it in just 2 years, when most of his peers were taking much, much longer.

Oh, and those health problems? Dad's heart is a champ and he's taking better care of it. Mom and Ryan kicked cancer's bootie. What else can a girl ask for?

An Important Message

2010-06-25T17:50:00.000-07:00

This blog has temporarily been interrupted by the Beautiful Game. Stay tuned for more posts after July 11.

My Utah Bucket List

2010-05-21T08:54:00.000-07:00

Though we still don't have an exact date for moving to Washington, we have started an unofficial countdown an order to be able to squeeze in some last-minute stuff here in Utah. Here's a partial list. If you have any suggestions for these things, or something you'd like to add to the list, please feel free to comment.

Hike to Delicate Arch (not from here, obviously).
Yellowstone trip (Dan wants to take the girls. I may just spend the day sleeping.)
Eat a few dozen bambinos (at each of the 3 locations).
Day trip to Logan to see our favorite Aggies, eat at Formosa, and drown in Aggie Ice Cream.
Make several trips to Rigby and Tooele so the girls can fill up their "grandparent" canteens.
Go to as many RSL games as I can afford/score free tickets to.
Perhaps a quick trip to Disneyland (it'll be easier from UT than from WA, and easier with 2 kids than with 3).
Many s'more bonfires with our friends who have fire pits (hint hint).

Any other ideas?

The Princess Knows What She Wants

2010-05-16T14:06:00.001-07:00

Dan caught LeiLei singing her own little version of an LDS kids' song Did Jesus Really Live Again. Funny for those of you who know it. My apologies for those who aren't familiar with it.
This is what she was singing:

"Did Jesus come to those He loved?
Yes, people touched His feet.
And of the fish and honeycomb,
He did truly eat.
Oh yes, and sooooo shall I."

Peer Pressure

2010-05-13T07:02:00.000-07:00

Do you ever feel obligated to post something when ALL your blogging friends have a new post or two, and you're still sitting on last week's post?

In Case You Missed It...

2010-05-05T14:06:00.000-07:00

Dan is graduating! Yeay! He's done an amazing thing, finishing his Masters of Education in 2 years (plus the semester he did when we were first married) while working one full-time job and one part-time job, plus handling a crazy pregnant wife. If I had a hat, I'd take it off for him. He's great and makes our family so happy.
So now that he's done (officially "walking" on Friday), as alluded to in previous posts, we're going back to Washington. Dan accepted a job teaching Spanish at Franklin Pierce High School in Tacoma, WA.
We're very excited, though sad to leave our parents. The rest of you, not so much. JUST KIDDING! We're sad to leave our friends and family, though truly excited to start living our lives and settle down somewhere for good. Never fear, we still have most of the summer to cram in some memories. The girls and I won't go West until August 31.

If you're ever in the PNW, let us know! We'd love you take you tree-hugging or puddle-hopping.

10 Diet Tips

2010-04-30T07:35:00.000-07:00

Since I have a sister and a friend who are much into their fitness blogs, I thought I'd add a link called 10 Diet Tips (for the rest of us), written by my wwwfriend Mormon Foodie.

Hope you enjoy it!

Bathroom Banter

2010-04-24T18:28:00.000-07:00

Princess LeiLei was very talkative while we were standing in line to use the bathroom at Chevron. The nice grandma talking to her leaned over to read Lei's shirt. "I Love My Grandma," she read, while pointing to the words.
"HEY!" yelled Leah. "I LOVE MY GRANDMA, TOO!"

Sick and the City, final installment

2010-04-16T08:19:00.000-07:00

Friday in NYC was the hardest day of all for me. I was tired, I was nauseous, I was a mess. However, there was too much to do and too much to see, so we left in the morning with a huge list and a fighting spirit.
First off, Cathy had an interview, so we split up and I went to Grand Central Station. I've got to tell you, I've been in my fair share of train stations and Grand Central was underwhelming. Even people watch wasn't that great because most of the folks seemed to be tourists.
The shops were interesting, and there's even a little transit museum of sorts. I needed food, so I headed down to the food court and tried my first Magnolia's Bakery cupcake. Just as underwhelming as the station.
Next, I wandered around the streets, looking at really tall buildings:
and noticing the one thing that sets the locals apart from the tourists isn't the shoes or the purses, like I originally thought, but the fact that tourists look up and locals look where they are going.
Next up, I did a little shopping and then met Cathy, post-interview, at the New York Public Library, which is absolutely amazing. I mean, just look at this ceiling!Then we went to get a snack (or, as Cathy said, "lunch") at a pizza place. If you haven't seen an NY pizzeria, you might not believe me when I tell you they put pasta on their pizza. Like normal people would put pepperoni or olives or whatever, they have a thing for noodles as a pizza topping. I know.
Then the highlight of the day was a tour of the United Nations. We saw the Assembly Hall, the temporary Security Chambers (?), lots of displays of what the UN is trying to accomplish, and some great art. Like this Stupa, which was a gift from 4 countries to the UN. It contains 14 items that were handled by the Buddha in life. Pretty cool.

After the UN, we hiked up to a great market/deli (seriously, are all the great markets in NYC?) called the Amish Market. Amazing amazing amazing.
Next on the agenda was St. Patrick's Cathedral. The architecture, the stained glass windows, the ambiance, it was just amazing.

Tired yet? Try doing all this with morning sickness.

After the cathedral, I was spent. I mean, DONE. So I asked Cathy if we could hop the subway and she told me that we were almost equal distance to 2 different stops, with the one being near Tiffany's and FAO Schwartz. What's a girl to do?

Finally, we got on the subway, and went to get Cathy's car. She drove me around to see some night-time sights, but honestly I couldn't keep my eyes open for long. So we went back home for a final night of sleep and an early morning flight.

In summary, yeah, I loved New York. If I was 10 years younger and single I'd move there in a heartbeat. It's a great town, and am so glad I got a chance to take a sneak peak. Thanks Dan, Cathy, Clau, my in-laws and my folks for making it possible.

What's next? Only a 8 months to decide where my next Sanity trip will take me.

Sick and the City part 2

2010-04-13T08:21:00.000-07:00

Thursday morning came too fast. Claudia left early early to catch her bus and Cathy and I slept in a bit longer. Ok, it was mostly me. I was exhausted from the previous 2 days. So we didn't get out the door until late morning. Of course, I was starving so I stopped by a mediocre pizzeria and wasn't impressed. Then Cathy took me to my new-found love, Dean and Deluca, a grocery/deli like no other. Go ahead, browse a while. I'll wait.
So we kept walking and finally made it to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. It was amazing, inside and out. We did a highlights tour and then went back to find the things we were most interested in. Loved it loved it loved it.

Now here's where my memory gets a little foggy. I think that next we walked around different parks, but we may have done this on Wednesday, not Thursday. Regardless of when it was, we hit a few like Washington Square park and (help me out here, Caffy) some other park. These parks remind me a lot of plazas, and they were packed with people, musicians, crazies, etc. Loved it.Back to Thursday, after the museum we decided to go home via Central Park. That was a walk. Cathy offered several times that we catch a bus to get home but I really wanted to see the park by foot. So we walked and walked and walked. We saw the angel fountain (Bethesda), Strawberry Fields (a Beatles monument),
the Alice in Wonderland statue,

and lots of people people everywhere. I love to see people out on the streets. It's one thing that is so hard for me about Utah: People just drive wherever they want to go and you never see folks on the sidewalk.

We dined at the Shake Shack somewhere along the way. It was AH-MAZE-ING! I made my own fry sauce and was in heaven. Then we walked some more.

Anyway, by that time I was worn out. I was past worn out. I was finding a happy place in my brain to make it the last few blocks.

Unfortunately, during those difficult last steps, we ran smack dab into the Guggenheim. I really wanted to go, but that night was out. I almost went the next morning. However, as you'll see in my next post, Friday was the busiest of them all.

Man, I'm getting tired just reliving the experience. Time for another break. I'll try to finish up the travelogue tomorrow.

Sick and the City part 1

2010-04-12T10:32:00.000-07:00

Every year, Dan asks me what I want for my birthday. Every year, I answer "a vacation!" And every year, he sends me away for a few days of being alone, without a worry in the world, with nobody to call me "MAMAAAAA" and no house to clean (or feel bad about not cleaning). I love it. I call it my Sanity Trip and recommend that every woman take one at least once.

This year I decided to explore NYC. My good friend Cathy lives there, and it seemed to be the perfect time to visit.

My plane arrived at 10 pm, and I had had a horrible day of flying while nauseous. Cathy picked me up from the airport and we went to get a bite to eat at Junior's Most Fabulous Cheesecake and Desserts. Their name is accurate. That was the most fabulous cheesecake I have ever eaten. It was a monster, and it took me 3 installments to eat it. YUM!

After Junior's, we drove around, hitting 4 of the 5 Burroughs (or is that 5 of the 6? I can't remember). Finally, we made it to Cathy's studio in Manhattan and I nearly passed out from the long day.

Wednesday was my first full day in NYC. We hopped on the subway (oh, the smells!) and went to Chinatown. Goal #1 on my list was to buy a new purse. While we were there, I ran into my little brother's other restaurant:

Then we were like pioneer children, without the singing. We walked, and walked, and walked, and walked. I loved this hotel with lights coming out the front that made the building look like it was on fire.

I loved the streets of Soho.

And this is the Flat Iron building.Finally I got so tired I begged Cathy to stop and sit on some random stairs with me for a while.Highlight of the day as far as food? A little place called Brunos, which happened to be home to one of the 10 best pastry chefs in the U.S. Yeah, my lunch was great, a turkey and goat cheese sandwich, but my dessert (a pear almondine tart) was heaven!

Here's a sampling of the dessert case:

Then we were off to pick up Claudia (my hostess for last year's Sanity Trip) at the bus stop. She came up from D.C. to see me. We ran to Cathy's place and changed our clothes and went to the Met (Lincoln Center) to see La Traviata. The place was unreal. Amazing chandeliers and specially commissioned Chagall on the walls.The opera itself was absolutely gorgeous. I can't say enough about the quality of the voices and the set.

Afterwards, we went back to Cathy's pad and ordered take out and called it a day.

And the 100th Post is About Toilets!

2010-04-10T15:54:00.000-07:00

Because I was on vacation, I've spent a fair amount of time in public restrooms this week. I went on a trip to NYC, my first ever, and walked around Manhattan until I couldn't walk any more. Really.

And in that time, I used nearly every public toilet we came across. Hey, 12 weeks pregnant and the peanut is jumping on your bladder already.

In this short time, I've discovered the components of an acceptable public john.

Toilet seat covers. A necessity, especially in women's restrooms for those unfortunate hover ladies who inevitably splash the seat and don't clean it up. I've been known to use several covers as protection.
A hook to hang your purse on. Nobody, I mean nobody should ever put a purse on a bathroom floor. That is just beyond disgusting, especially since when you get home, the purse will probably end up on your kitchen table.
A dry floor. I don't care what that wet is, it doesn't belong on the floor. Get a good drainage system and pay someone to mop the floor regularly.

I have a few public bathroom pet peeves as well.

Talking in the john. The lady in the stall next to me actually said this today in Chicago, "Hi! I'm sitting on the toilet in the airport bathroom! How are you?" Um, gross. If you are on the pot at home, just don't tell people that you are disgusting and you can do your thing. But sitting in a multi-stalled restroom while other people are getting rid of their waste and your grandma/friend/sister has to hear about it? Really, people?
Non-flushers. 'Nuff said.
People who can't keep what's private in their stall. Have you seen someone digging for gold, pulling out a wedgie, scratching their nether-regions, adjusting stuff I don't need to see, etc, in a public bathroom? I can't fathom this. Wait 3 seconds til you get in the stall before you dig your underwear out of your hiney, please!

Enough potty mouth. I'll write a travelogue complete with pictures soon. Stay tuned! And thanks for sticking with me for 100 posts!

p.s. When will the U.S. switch to calling bathrooms "toilets?" It makes so much more sense, because in most bathrooms you don't bathe, and in most restrooms you don't rest.

Absolutely Disgusting

2010-04-02T08:28:00.000-07:00

A friend of mine posted this link on her blog. I followed it and was so grossed out I needed to share it with you.

(did that sell it, or what)

1 year old happy meal

You are welcome.

Politics and Religion

2010-03-31T10:08:00.000-07:00

Why is it that the most outspoken of my friends and family when it comes to the 2 taboo topics are the ones that have the absolute furthest opinion from my own?
Wouldn't the world be a better place if we stuck to the old rule of not talking politics or religion around people we love?

I know for damn sure mine would be.

An Open Letter

2010-03-24T06:39:00.001-07:00

Dear You,
I just wanted to drop you a line and let you know you are my favorite parent/sibling/neighbor/etc and our decision to not want to live in Salt Lake forever has nothing to do with you. Because the job market is beyond tough, we might stay another year or so, but we won't stay here forever. It isn't because we hate Mormons/family/whatever, it's because we aren't Utah people. Sure, we've lived here for many many years. But we are done. We yearn for greener pastures/less snow/more people. It isn't because we want far away from you; we LOVE you. In fact, it would be swell if you'd move somewhere nicer with us. Consider it? And please stop bugging us about staying. We will stay only if we have to.
Love,
Us

Today's Menu: Dead Animals

2010-03-23T09:49:00.000-07:00

Elena is fascinated by dinosaurs. So much so, that her princess room is now speckled with dino posters and models. She loves books about dinosaurs, and loves to learn about different kinds and what they liked to eat, etc. She has a time-line for dinos to know what era they lived in. She calls it her "Dinosaur Schedule."
Saturday, she and I were checking out the schedule, and she asked about a certain mean-looking bad A from the Jurassic. I told her what I knew (which isn't much) and she said that it must be a carnivore. She then followed that up by saying, "I don't want to be a carnivore. They eat dead animals and I don't want to eat dead animals."
This is quite a shocking statement to an Argentine.
I quickly explained that many of her favorite foods were, in fact, dead animals. She said she'd have to think about it for a while, and I hoped that was the end of that.
Fast forward to dinner. I had made chicken with rice and steamed veggies. Sparky again says she doesn't want to be a carnivore, and to only feed her an herbivore diet. I pleaded with her to please eat her chicken leg. She is a skinny, growing kid who needs the protein. I said it's ok to sometimes eat dead animals, as long as we are thankful for what we have and try to not waste food or be mean to the animals. "Are you sure, Elena? Can I put some chicken on your plate?"
That's when LeiLei popped up with her trademark response,
"I DO! I WANT A PLATE FULL OF DEAD ANIMALS!"
Oh, how I love that kid.

Post Script - Elena decided that as long as she wasn't eating dinosaurs, she's ok with eating meat. Whew!

Something So Small, Yet So Important

2010-03-15T19:00:00.000-07:00

Something great I've noticed about my Lito lately is that he lets me complain when I feel fat without trying to "fix" the problem. For instance, I just told him I wanted to go swimming but didn't feel like wearing a swimsuit because I was having a fat day. He didn't try to tell me I am not fat. He didn't try to tell me to lose weight. He just listened to me complain, because he knows that I was just sharing my feelings, not fishing for a compliment.

I like that he gets me.

Giveaway! (not from me)

2010-03-11T09:53:00.000-08:00

My friend Hayley just started up her health blog after taking a hiatus. She's starting things off right with a giveaway! Woot! So go learn to be healthier and win some swaaaag.

Reason # 347 I Dislike McDonalds

2010-03-10T12:40:00.000-08:00

It's true.
Sometimes I take my kids to McDonalds even though I stress healthy eating and I think Ron McDon is the devil himself.
I don't really know why I take them there, besides the convenience. I usually feel bad about giving my kids over-priced junk food (sometimes I really don't care, to be honest) and vow I'll never go back.
Yesterday, we were out and about and I forgot to pack a lunch. We had to go to ballet class and there was no time to go home, so I asked the girls if they wanted happy meals.
While at the big sign-that-you-talk-into, I asked for 2 chicken nugget happy meals. The girl asked if they were for boys or girls. I said girls, but then quickly noticed that the toys for boys were Star Wars toys, while the girls' toys were iCarly junk. I told the lady-in-the-sign that the toys should be the Star Wars toys, not the other. Now my girls each own an X Wing fighter. Much better than stupid iCarly, right?
That got me thinking. How does McD's have the gall to ask a question like "boy or girl" in this day and age? Haven't we outgrown that, as a society? Wouldn't it be more appropriate to give them all the same toy, or to ask if they wanted Star Wars v iCarly (really, like there's any choice there)?
I am upset that these clearly made-up boundaries that I thought came down years ago are being promulgated by a corporation that has a LOT of influence on our littles. Girls can play with star fighters and boys can take the microphone and strut their stuff.
Don't oversimplify my kids, McD.
Maybe this time my vow will stick.

Average Every-Day Sane Psycho Supergoddess

2010-03-02T07:43:00.000-08:00

Have you ever had one of those movie moments when you don't think you can take one more step and then the perfect song comes on?
Today I dropped Elena off at preschool and decided to run outside, a thing I don't usually do since the cold air really hurts my asthma. I plugged in my shuffle and it shuffled the exact music I needed to hear. The first hundred meters were so hard, with the calf problems I've been having, my asthma, and general yuckiness I've been feeling as of late. And then, Ingrid Michaelson sang what I felt. I just wanted to Be Ok, and I thought, "yeah, me too," and decided to at least run through the one song before quitting.
The first song got me through a few more, and when hills started discouraging me, KT Tunstall reminded me why the hell running meant so much to me.
A little bit later, I was just downright getting bored. My cadence was off, I thought maybe I should just walk home, taking a shortcut. If you ever need a great song to set a running pace for you, hope to death your ipod shuffles up Rag and Bone by TWS. Jack White and Muse got me through the next few blocks and none other than Liz Phair helped me sprint home, because, as we all know, I am Extraordinary.
So thanks, soundtrack of my life, for getting me through that run. Thank you Alicia for watching the Princess while I was out. Thanks to Panchito who thought my MP3 player was too big so he gave me a shuffle. And an extra big thanks to Yoda, my ipod, for shuffling just right.

No, Thank YOU

2010-02-23T08:50:00.000-08:00

Every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday I water my plants. I usually only have 3, my Arboracola Capela (falso cafe) named Tulip, whatever seed Sparky is germinating at the time, and a rosemary plant in my kitchen window.
I love that rosemary plant. It's so practical. The thing needs hardly any attention, and rosemary tastes so great. I just toss it in everything to make it taste better.
But the best part about that plant? Every time I give her water, she releases the smell of rosemary. I can't prove it, but I think it's her way of saying "Thanks for the water!"

Best.Prayer.Ever

2010-02-17T19:33:00.000-08:00

Sparky gave the cutest prayer tonight. She thanked God for lots of stuff, but a few really jumped out.

Thanks that mom painted my fingernails. They are pretty.
Thanks that I have a loose tooth (she doesn't, really, she just wants it to be loose).
Thanks that the Tooth Fairy is going to leave me a lot of money.

So why the mouse picture? Well, in Spanish, the Tooth Fairy is known as Ratón Pérez (That's Spanish for "a mouse named Pérez").

Elena concluded her prayer and informed us that she would be wiggling her tooth until it fell out. She also informed me that her teacher's daughter got $5 for her tooth! What!?!

Just wait til the next parent teacher conference.

Correct as Usual, King Friday

2010-02-01T10:18:00.000-08:00

My kids watch a lot of crappy tv. Correction, they don't watch a LOT of tv, but a lot of what they watch is crap. I try to weed out the stuff I can't stand, like My Friends Tigger and Poop and Special (Ed) Agent Oso. Bleh.
Even the good stuff, like Little Einsteins and Dinosaur Train can just grate on you after a while. Therefore I decided to teach them to like Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood.
Mr. Rogers is a man that I love. He's someone who will never let me down. Sometimes the people we look up to are the people that let us down the hardest.
Mr. Rogers never let a kid down. He taught us not to be scared of the dark. He introduced us to Yo Yo Ma. He taught us to be nice and neighborly. He taught us that puppets are fun, not creepy. And most of all, he loved us, just the way we are.
I miss Mr. Rogers and everything he stood for. I miss simpler times, when grown-ups were infallible. I miss seeing Lady Elaine Fairchilde and thinking she looks just like my Aunt Glenna.
Thank goodness for reruns and syndication. At least I get to share this treasure with my girls. After all, it is such a good feeling to know you're alive.

Did I Ever Step in it.

2010-01-26T13:23:00.001-08:00

Recently I said something that was out of place and very reactionary. Not a big surprise to those of you who know me well. I tend to talk first, think second.
But this time, I realized what I did and stopped.
That's a first for me.
Reflecting on this small miracle, I realized that it's when I step in it, and someone tells me that I stepped in it (because sometimes you can't smell your own stink), that I learn life's greatest lessons.
I remember some of the absolute most stupid things that I've ever said with great shame. However, from the gentle (and not-so-gentle) reprimands of my loved ones, I've realized what idiocy came from my mouth and changed the way I think about many things.
This isn't to say that every time I say something dumb I've learned from it, but maybe it is happening more and more often. Maybe I'm finally growing. Maybe I'll learn to turn the other cheek and jump over a few cow pies instead of stepping in every single country landmine that's out there.

A Little Sunshine

2010-01-18T15:51:00.000-08:00

"I am asking that we stop seeking out the storms and enjoy more fully the sunlight. I am suggesting that as we go through life we 'accentuate the positive.' I am asking that we look a little deeper for the good, that we still voices of insult and sarcasm, that we more generously compliment virtue and effort. I am not asking that all criticism be silenced. Growth comes of correction. Strength comes of repentance. Wise are those who can acknowledge mistakes pointed out by others and change their course. What I am suggesting is that each of us turn from the negativism that so permeates our society and look for the remarkable good among those with whom we associate, that we speak of one another's virtues more than we speak of one another's faults, that optimism replace pessimism, that our faith exceed our fears."
Gordon B. Hinckley

I Can't Think of a Title That isn't Cheesy

2010-01-12T09:02:00.000-08:00

Ok, so one of my bffs in middle school, jr high, and high school was Karen Clark. She was a fiery red-head, trumpet player, RHS Junior Miss, all around amazing person. I was kinda more of the weird, drama club, combat boot and plaid wearing pseudo-bad girl. Today I might have been considered goth or emo, but those classifications didn't exist in Rigby High School as much as cowboy and non-cowboy. Karen and I were of the latter group, and we got along splendidly.
We were supposed to room together at USU, but she decided to go to Ricks at the last minute. We kept in touch pretty well. As the years went on, we stayed in touch with the occasional phone call, KC sends me a Halloween card every year, and I send her a Christmas card every year.
This year, she surprised me by sending me an amazon gift card for my birthday. Kinda out of the blue. I thought it was cool, and bought a couple of cds and a book I've been wanting, thanked KC, then promptly forgot about it.
Last weekend, my little family had a struggle. It was a rough weekend, and it all came to a head on Monday afternoon. When Dan came home that night, he hugged me tight, told me he loved me, and handed me the mail.
My music from amazon had arrived. We put in the cds after dinner and danced with the girls, and for the first time in a few days, felt happy and blessed with what I have and who I am right now, without feeling sorry for myself.
Thanks, KC, and all those old friends who help me when I need it, even if you don't know that you are helping.

Resolved:

2010-01-04T14:41:00.000-08:00

I could have sworn I posted my new years resolutions here last year. Perhaps I deleted the post when I realized they weren't going to be met.

Here are a few of my goals for 2010:

Do a better job of having sincere daily prayer.
Read more, more often. (DVR is a blessing and a curse)
Complain less about not having much money.
Run a half-marathon, train for another triathlon after that.
Be a better mom by spending 1 on 1 time with each child, each day.
Be a better wife by listening more and being more interested in what Dan has to say.
Be a better daughter/sister/aunt/friend by being less sarcastic and mean and showing them more love instead.
Eat cleaner food, more locally grown produce and support sustainable farming when possible. Also, follow through with Meatless Mondays. Meatless, not vegan.
Be happy with who I am, no matter what that may be at the moment.

I'm not making a resolution about my weight this year. I'm going to eat well and run a lot and that about sums it up.

How about you? Do you have any goals for the coming year that are out of the ordinary?

A Funny Thing Pancho's Girl Said

2009-12-31T14:23:00.000-08:00

So, I was at my house last night, hosting a little farewell dinner for my cousins, the Giacosas, when someone noticed it was almost midnight. "Almost my birthday!" I told my mom, the only other person that did any significant effort that fateful day, 34 years ago. My little brother's girlfriend asked how old I would be at midnight. I told her thirty-four. She didn't miss a step and said "Congratulations! You'll officially be more than 10 years old than me!"
AWE.SOME.
Here's the thing, I know I look good for my age. I'm in fairly decent condition and my face isn't that of a 34 year old. I have a healthy self-image and have never tried to make people think I'm younger than what I really am. They tend to assume it on their own (at least those older than me do. Those younger than me could give a rat's ass about some middle-aged lady's age).
Still, for that half a second until I came up with a smooth come-back, I was in shock. The poor girl, Alycia, nearly fell off her chair trying to apologize. All I could do was give a good, hearty, belly laugh and decide to not take myself too seriously.
Happy birthday to me! All 34 years of me! And guess what? Tomorrow we start the year I turn 35! Woot!

Tyrannosaurus Regina

2009-12-26T12:06:00.000-08:00

Sparky asked me,
after being deep in thought,
"What was the wife of T-Rex called?
Was she the T-Queen?"

House Rules, by Elena

2009-12-24T23:46:00.000-08:00

Last summer, Elena decided to make a list of the house rules she thought were the most important and hang them on our door. Here they are:

My personal favorite, no smoking. I'm not sure where she got this, since she's never been around anyone who is actively smoking, but, nonetheless, it's a rule.

No ignoring, particularly no ignoring me. Ironically enough, this rule gets ignored a lot. No pushing. I love the drawing, Elena with a big smile on her face, pushing a frowning LeiLei.

No yelling. Note the giant ear.

Always hold hands to cross the road.

Be happy.

I asked Elena to add in the last one, because I didn't want her thinking all our rules were negative rules. "Don't do this," and "don't do that," really grate on your after a while, especially if you are a kid.

Today, Elena added one more positive rule on her own, and it's 4 times the size of the others:

Yes to LOVE.

Happy Holidays. Remember to say YES to LOVE. It's a house rule.

When I Grow Up...

2009-12-13T16:40:00.000-08:00

In church last week, the kids were getting a lesson on motherhood. The teacher asked Elena what she could do now to prepare to become a mother when she grew up.

Elena answered without missing a beat, "I don't want to be a mother, I want to be a paleontologist!"

A bit later, a friend who witnessed this exchange was telling me about it. She looked over at LeiLei and asked her if she also wanted to be a paleontologist when she grew up.

"No," said Leah. "I want to be a dinosaur!"

The Circle of Life

2009-12-11T12:38:00.001-08:00

If you know me, you know I dislike Thanksgiving. I've never really been a big fan. It seems like a holiday that encourages gluttony, followed by a day that encourages overspending and greed. Also, I lost someone important to me many years ago on Thanksgiving weekend. So really it's a lose-lose weekend for me.
This year, I went to the cemetery on the anniversary of said deceased person's death and I found this:

Now, it's not unusual to see deer in this cemetery, but this was a whole flock/herd/group of deer. My Idaho instincts wanted to run and grab the gun out of my gun rack/glove compartment/under the seat and get dinner.
I refrained.
This did get me thinking, though. On the surface, this is a very "circle of life" kind of thing. The deer eating the grass in a cemetery to survive. But there's not much "dust to dust" going on in American cemeteries.
First of all, most people in this country are embalmed. No blood equal verrrrry slow decomp. Secondly, caskets are going to stand the test of time. Third, caskets aren't put into the ground, like we usually think. They are placed inside cement vaults. People end up looking like little babushka dolls when they are done.I'm not into babushka burials. Burn me up and sprinkle me over Dan's casket. I'm good with that.

Oh I wish that I was in the land of cotton...

2009-11-19T08:53:00.000-08:00

We went to St. George, Utah, last weekend. The Pickett name has a lot of history there. For example, this bike/scooter shop is the house my old man grew up in. My grandpa built it, after making the bricks by hand. Yes, I said he made the bricks.
This is, of course, the Tabernacle. One great great someone made the stairs wrong and another made the doors. History abounds.

This is Brigham Young's winter home, when he got old and couldn't handle the SLC weather, he headed to St. George for the winter months, thus starting a migratory pattern for old-timers for generations to come.This park is next to the Tabernacle. It has a fountain, ball parks, a river-water-play-place for kids that my girls loved getting wet in, and it was just a generally cool place to hang.The St. George Temple, where my folks were hitched for time and all eternity. It's the whitest temple, I'm pretty sure. I nearly got my retinas burned off. This guitar statue was on the other side of the Tabernacle from the park. It was coo. Also, the block or two up from that was pretty great, too. That's where Dan and I would hang out if we lived in Utah's Dixie.
My dad took us to St. George a million times as a kid. We'd load up the station wagon, dad would take his hard boiled eggs and #10 can of peanuts and off we'd go! I really didn't love the trip, but I didn't mind St. George. I'm glad I got to take my kids and let them see and under appreciate a few things I saw and under appreciated as a kid.

Writer's Block

2009-11-18T06:09:00.000-08:00

It was a dark and stormy night.
. . .
Call me Ishmael.
. . .
In the beginning,
. . .
crap

Shakespearian Tragedies and Toddlers

2009-10-30T08:27:00.000-07:00

So, Elena often (like every 10 minutes) asks any adult within earshot to tell her a story. She's big into Smurf stories with her dad because he likes to do "share stories" with her, where they take turns telling the story. They spend hours playing this game and she eats it up.

I, on the other hand, am not so patient with her.

Shock.

When Elena asks me for stories, I have 2 choices: either (1) I make something up, or (2) I retell a famous story/book/song lyrics in a form that is more appropriate for a child.

Now, I'm pretty durned creative, so the stories I make up are pretty great, if I do say so myself. The problem with option 1 is that I have the memory capacity of a chipmunk or parakeet or housefly. Inevitably, Elena will love the story and ask me to retell it the next day, or the next week. I've even had the request to retell a story I'd forgotten I had told her at all, months later. Not good.

Therefore, I usually stick with option 2. We've made it through a lot of Harry Potter stories, some Oliver Twist, Legend of the Seeker stories, and other random stuff. Whatever I happen to have read or been thinking about.

Last week, my favorite CWW and I went to see Macbeth, so naturally I have been pondering on the social commentary the Bard was making. This morning, when Elena interrupted my newspaper-and-tea-time to ask for a story (breaking a house rule in the process), I started telling her about a man, his friend, and 3 sister witches. Soon, I noticed she had stopped drinking her milk mid-gulp and was spellbound by the story.

When I got to the part of the foretelling of Birnam Wood marching on the castle, I added, "Macbeth was happy, because, how could a whole forest move?"

Elena, who was deep in thought, yelled, "With wheels! If Macbeth is a bad man, the prince should get a big truck with big wheels and put the wheels on the trees so they can move the forest to the castle!"

Well, yeah, I guess that would work.

Who? Me? Sarcastic? Nooooooooo!

2009-10-22T08:00:00.000-07:00

As you may know, I've a bit of a talent for sarcasm. I don't really want this particular talent. In fact, one of my life goal is to get rid of my sarcasm. I think it can be really hurtful and divisive, two traits I don't necessarily want associated with me.
The problem ends up being How do you get rid of sarcasm? I'm obviously not good at it, because it's been a goal of mine for several years. Sometimes I'll be better, more decent and kind, and then sarcasm rears its ugly head. Geez, die already, stupid bad habit!
So, open forum: How do I stop being sarcastic (while still being funny, because we all know I'm pretty funny)?

USU Homecoming

2009-09-27T16:18:00.000-07:00

I went to Utah State's homecoming with Dan and ChrisWhite Woodbury, their kids and mine, and we had a great time. (my Dan was working, so he couldn't come)
I always have a good time at homecoming reunions. It's good to catch up with some friends, meet some new folk, and generally reminisce.
This time, my favorite part of the trip was a little picture-text message exchange I had with my niece, Alyssa, a junior at USU.

I sent her this picture of Leah in her new Aggie gear, since Aly was the one who told me my kids needed Utah State stuff.

The caption said "FUTURE AGGIE!"

Alyssa, having Pickett blood in her, after all, couldn't let it be. She sent this picture back with the caption

"CURRENT AGGIES."

Always wanting the last word, I gathered my friends from yesteryear and posed them, adding the caption

"ONCE AN AGGIE, ALWAYS AN AGGIE."

Show me a true blooded Aggie from Utah, who doesn't love the spot where the saaaagebruuuush grooooooows!
Yeay for Utah State. Yeay for friends who are friends for life. Yeay for smart-alec nieces and their way of reminding me how good stuff is. Yeay for the countless hours of work in college that keeps me in Aggie ice cream and gets me into homecoming games for cheap.

"As Papa Smurf Always Says..."

2009-09-24T05:57:00.000-07:00

Ok, my kids are obsessed with the Smurfs. How, you ask? I may or may not have bought the first season for them on DVD a few months ago because I thought it would be cool to watch old episodes with them.
Those Smurfs are crazy. Seriously, Peyo was smoking something when he did those episodes. But all the black magic aside, there's one thing in particular that really bothers me.Mushroom houses.
We all know from Smurf lore (or maybe I'm the only nerd here) that a typical Smurf is 3 apples high. If an apple measures between 2 and 3 inches, that would make them between 6 and 9 inches tall. This would make their houses anywhere from 18 to 27 inches (approximately) tall! That is one big mushroom!
After a little research, I found that there are huge mushrooms that cover giant expanses, the largest known mushroom covers 2,200 acres or the same as 1,665 football pitches and is in America, in the Malheur national forest in Oregon. However, it's not very tall, so I doubt we could set up camp in it.
This bad boy, the Giant Stalked Puffball, can grow to be 2 feet tall, but obviously doesn't have the width for Papa Smurf's laboratory inside or Vanity's, well, vanity.
Perhaps what Peyo was suggesting was a hybrid, of sorts, of the honey mushroom with the giant stalked puffball. I truly doubt it. I think he ingested more mushrooms than anything else.
Tra la la la la la! Smurf a happy song! Just ignore the fungal inconsistencies.

Official Times

2009-09-14T13:10:00.000-07:00

400 Meter Swim 00:13:52.989
Transition 1 00:02:51.514
9 mi Bike 00:41:33.509
Transition 2 00:00:58.407
5K Run 00:31:59.138

Grand Total: 01:31:15.5

The Day After...

2009-09-13T13:15:00.000-07:00

Yes, I am tired.

No, I'm not sore.

Yes, I'd consider doing another one.

No, not open-water.

Here's the run-down:

Amy and I got to Alta Canyon early, pretty nervous, and picked up our packets and set up the transition area. At 730, they had us line up by our speed at the edge of a 50 meter pool. My folks showed up early and it was pretty cool to have someone yelling from the edge of the pool on my hardest event. The pool was divided into 4 wide lanes. We had to swim down one side and up the other, then go under the dividing rope and do the same thing until we reached the end. The swim was tough for me. I did 100 meters strong, with proper form. Then, at about 145 I started to get tired. By the time I made it to 250, I decided to just backstroke a lap, no matter how much time it cost me. At 350, I stopped and gasped for breath for a minute (or a millisecond, not sure) then gave it my all for the last lap.

I jumped out of the pool and ran for the bike, grateful that the hardest part was behind me. I ran to T1 and was confused to see Amy's friend's bike racked. She does tris a lot and is even a Luna Chix chick so I assumed she'd be done swimming a lot before me, and thought for half a second I was supposed to run 2nd. Amy's husband was right there so I asked him where Kristin was and he said she was running. So I took off my helmet, then realized she had finished her bike and was already running. sheesh, what a dork I am. I hopped on the bike and got moving. There is a big hill that we had to climb twice. I heard the volunteers refer to it as the "Heart Breaker" and I can attest to the veracity of that name. It's a bitch. I rode it a couple of times before and it nearly wiped me out. But this time, I hammered all the way up and felt strong all the way through. 9 miles in around 40 minutes, which for me is great. Thank you, 5:30 am spin class.

Transition 2 was smooth. I jumped off the bike, ripped off my helmet, popped a Clif Shot Block or two and took off running. There's another hill on the run, not as long but twice as steep, and I decided to take a puff from my inhaler and give it a shot. I had to walk the last little bit, as I felt my asthma coming on, but felt good. The second time around I decided to walk the hill to let my lungs have a break. I didn't want to have to walk during the tri but in retrospect it was the right thing to do. I finished off the run strong, feeling good, until about 10 feet before the finish line I tripped on the sidewalk and nearly took out the poor lady next to me. oops.

En fin, I feel pretty amazing. Thanks, AmyNoelle, for talking me into doing this crazy thing. Thanks to my folks for cheering me on. And a biiiig round of applause for Dan because he was so supportive in my training.

Road Trip Summary

2009-09-04T06:22:00.000-07:00

August was such a whirlwind of activity. Maybe that’s why I so tired just 3 days into September.

We started out going to Gianni’s baptism. It was really nice and low-key. Afterwards, Lee had a dinner for him at her house which was also nice until she fell asleep in the living room, her international sign for “The party is over; please go home.”

A couple of days later, I took one of her kids, Eryn, and we got in the car at 2 a.m. and drove straight through to Chico, California. My older brother Andy lives there. I’ve always felt a special pull towards Andy. He was always a little different, like me. I wouldn’t exactly call our family cookie-cutter, but there is a certain mold and he and I are just a smidge off the mark. Ok, I’m a little more than a smidge, but you get the point.

We spent a lovely 3 days with Andy, Cindy, Aislin and Alinita. The latter 2 were the main reason for my trip. I take this job of being an aunt very seriously and want to make sure my nieces and nephews know I love them. I never had that growing up and think it’s important. We even got to celebrate Eryn's 15th birthday with a Cindy-style cheesecake! YUM! (my sis-in-law is fabulous at a lot of things, but her kitchen abilities leave nothing to be desired).

Thursday, after a late breakfast for which Andy stuck around, we hit the road again and went to my cousin’s house in Sunnyvale, California, just under 4 hours away. Lauri and I had our kids pretty close to each other, and the 2 times we’ve gotten them together (not counting the time Fiorina was a baby and Elena was in utero), they have gotten along superbly. So the minute we walked in the house, the girls were off and playing and we didn’t see them until days later. It was great. The only tough part was that Eryn didn’t have anyone her age around, or so I thought. Then I realized that my other cousin, Vivi, lives just around the corner, 2 Lauri-sized blocks away, and she has a plethora of children. Eryn ended up spending some quality time with cousins she had never met and having a great time.

One of the reasons we took this trip at this particular time was because Dan had finals. We left him in a quiet house to study and when the tests were over (hello, 4.0!), he flew out to spend the rest of the time with us. We spent a day in San Francisco, Dan’s first trip, and had a great time. Other than that, we hit the tide pools at the beach and then it was little outings here and there and kicking it at home.

Unfortunately, our vacation time soon came to a close, and we packed up our little toaster car and drove away. We did decide to spend a night in Reno at the Circus Circus to give the kids one last night of vacation (and so the drive wasn’t so long), but other than that, vacay was over.

Adieu, NorCal, we hardly knew thee.

History Repeating Itself

2009-08-29T17:31:00.000-07:00

When I was 8 my tia Nañu gave me a diary. I wrote in it on the first page, declaring my intent to write every day. The next journal entry was on my 9th birthday.

I've had a busy August. I'll post about it soon. Like tomorrow. Or next week.

Because I Can, That's Why!

2009-07-24T17:59:00.000-07:00

Earlier this year, I had an epiphany. I decided that I could do anything I wanted to do, and maybe a few things I didn't necessarily want to, but wanted to try out, anyway. One of these things I've already blogged about, my 1st ever (and possibly last ever) 5k run. Some other things I've been wanting to do for a while are lose weight, donate hair to Locks of Love, and make sure my body doesn't feel its age*.
*Disclaimer: I firmly believe a person should act their age, but that doesn't mean a person should look their age.
Somewhere along the lines, I suddenly decided I needed to do all of these things this summer. 5k? Check. Working out? Check. Getting this old body back in shape? Check. Signed up for a 10k? Check. Talked into a sprint tri (because I'm insane)? Check.
Holy friggin tamales, I have a full summer.
Today I was working out and my hair was bothering me, wrapped around my neck in a pony tail of death, making me sweat more than any person should sweat. I started thinking, "why do I have to suffer with this giant, connected scarf all summer long?" That stopped me in my tracks. Why, indeed? Just because I said I've a lot of things I want to do, doesn't mean I need to do it all right this very second.
I know you are dying to find out what happened next.
I hopped in the car after the workout and drove to a salon. I told them to chop it off. And the funny part is, I had enough (10 inches) to send in to Lock of Love.
I feel so empowered, and also I feel less warm. Yeay, me!

Si! Me Gusta!

2009-07-19T14:52:00.000-07:00

Ay, papito!

Companionship Inventory with Sparky, er, I mean Elena

2009-07-16T15:27:00.000-07:00

As those of you who have been on LDS missions know, once a week, missionaries and their companions (the dude/lady they live and work with) have an "inventory," in which they air all their dirty laundry. "Sister, it really flippin' bothered me when you drank that coke at lunch." "Elder, no mee gustar kwanto Usted say laugh at mee español." Stuff like that. It sounds silly but it's really effective. Dan and I still Comp Inventory once in a while to great success.
Today, Elena and I had a companionship inventory. She took 2 hours to eat her lunch, and then didn't even finish, and I took away the Cheetos I promised if she finished her tuna sandwich. After an hour of screaming and crying, she finally looked me square in the eye and said, "I don't want to be like you anymore, mom."
ouch
So, I sat her down and asked her what it was that I did that she didn't like. She didn't even hesitate.

"I don't like it when you get mad."
Yeah, ok.
"I don't like it when you cook me food with onions."
I then proceeded to tell her about how my mom used to make me eat lentil soup and how I choked it down, vowing I'd never serve it to my children. So, she should eat my onions now but she didn't have to feed her kids onions when she was a mom. She liked that.
"I don't like it when you call me 'Sparky.' "
This one, apparently, is because she thinks "Sparky" is a boy's name. I told her that a spark is a little piece of fire that moves really fast, like her. She liked that explanation.

That's it. Three little bullet points and we are friends again.

In fact, she told me she loves me "this much," while stretching her arms out wide. Then she asked me how much I love her, and I stretched my arms out. She said, "WOW! Your love is bigger than my love."

What are some things your kids don't like about you? Or things you told your parents you'd never ever do to your children when you were a parent?

IRL

2009-07-14T17:11:00.000-07:00

I met an old friend today. We've never met before, but we've known each other for almost 7 years. Nearly 8 years ago, I found a weight loss bulletin board on a random site. The guy who hosted it told us he was getting rid of the url so we took our group over to the weight watchers bulletin board (the free site, not the one you have to pay to use). We've been there ever since, and when our numbers dwindled, we joined up with another thread. I check in there 4 or 5 times a week. It's a great group of ladies, very supportive, and we've all come to know each other.
Today, one of these friends I've never met happened to be in Utah. I got to spend a lovely day with her and her family.
It's strange to meet someone you know. I thought it would be more normal, more natural. Sure, we got along nicely. Colette is fun and easy to get along with. But, when it comes down to it, we just met. Today.

Lucky for me, Colette is great; I'm glad I finally met her.

Oíd, mortales!

2009-07-11T09:11:00.000-07:00

July 9 is Argentina's Independence Day. To be more precise, it is the day that a bunch of guys were sitting around in Tucumán, drinking mate, and someone said, "Che, como joden los españoles, no? " and they declared their independence from Spain. Since that fateful day nearly 200 years ago, Argentines celebrate the special day much like yanquis celebrate the 4th of July, except it's steak not burgers, sausages not hotdogs, not so many fireworks since July is in the middle of winter, and nobody throws tootsie rolls out during parades.

This year, I was reminded of a particularly poignant moment in my life, a "defining moment," as my mission president used to call it. Three years ago, Dan, Elena and I happened to be in Argentina during this holiday. It was my first 9th there ever, since the first year of my life, so it's been a while. I was acutely aware of what was going on around me, the percieved apathy of my cousins on that day, the World Cup that Argentina wasn't a part of (though they should have been, darn Germans), the fact that my family took us up to their weekend home in Tafi del Valle, etc.
My moment came the Friday before. I woke up early because my nephew, Chapita, asked me to go see him in his elementary school program. I went, not expecting much, and discovered that it was a patriotic assembly. The first thing that I and 500 parents and grandparents did, when those kids all marched in dressed in costume, was stand and sing the Argentine national anthem.
Now, a little background for those who don't know me well. My family came to the U.S. when I was just over 1. My older brothers and sisters all have the luxury of saying they grew up in Argentina, they went to elementary school there, learned all the songs, did the silly little dances at the assemblies, were abanderados, etc. I can't say that. I grew up in a small town in Idaho where my family was treated differently for being different. During my whole life, I've sung national anthem on the 9th of July, but just with my family (and maybe a family friend or two). This was the first time I had ever stood up and sung "el grito sagrado" with a room full of strangers. It hit me so hard that I had to compose myself for a moment before continuing, but I sang full-gusto.
Last night, a family friend sponsored a fund-raiser for the Andes Foundation, and all things Argentine were celebrated. Once again, I stood in a room full of strangers, but this time in a different hemisphere, and sang with gusto. It wasn't quite the same as it was 3 years ago, but it was still really nice.
Perhaps you don't understand. Perhaps you have the luxury of just having one culture to embrace. Perhaps you've never been told you're not a "real" whatever you are, just because you were born somewhere you weren't raised or raised somewhere you weren't born. I think most of my siblings don't really get what I feel, for the simple reason noted above. It took me the better part of 3 decades to figure out that I didn't have to choose between them, I didn't have to go neutral, I don't have to say the cop-out "I'm just me" and not associate with their heritage like some people do. I really can be exactly what I am, a halfsie, and not feel left out. Much.

It's All About ME (time)

2009-06-30T13:26:00.000-07:00

Recently, I noticed we've lived at the Fun.home for over a year! That's longer than we were here the first time, yet it seems like it was just a couple of months ago we moved in. How is it possible that the days, which seem so eternal, can come together to create the fastest year of my life? It's a modern miracle, I think, since it's also been the most difficult year of my life, with personal trials I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. Yet, with difficulties come growth, so it's also been one of my most educational years ever. Thanks to those who helped me through, especially Dan, Paul, ChrisWhite, Giff, and A.Noelle. ((hugs))
Anyway, now that Dan is not teaching and he's actually home when the rest of us are awake, I can actually take more "me" time, even if sometimes my "me" time consists of locking myself in my room with a book for 20 minutes.
I'm a firm believer in "me" time. I also call it "sanity time," with absolutely no tongue in cheek. I'm a little ---- uh --- moody (trying to be nice to myself) and if I am locked in my house being a mom all the time, my insides feel like that scene in alien where the creature comes out the belly. In fact, I'm feeling a bit like that chestburster is working on me right now....
My favorite thing to do during "me" time is sleep. I can never get enough sleep, which is funny because I'm an insomniac. You'd think the thing I love the most wouldn't be the thing I have the hardest time convincing my body it needs.
Second favorite thing to do is to exercise. Something about those endorphins running through my body, even if I'm missing the tennis ball completely or watching someone kick the soccer ball through my legs and into the goal, something about that makes me happy. And what's more, they make me happy for a long time, sleeping and working out.
What's your favorite thing to do during "me" time?

Our little scare... (or, Fun with Flu)

2009-06-03T09:34:00.000-07:00

Dan started coughing a little on Sunday afternoon. Since he has pretty bad allergies, we thought nothing of it.
Then the phone call.
"Dan, this is Sarah from City Academy (his school). One of your students has contracted the H1N1 virus and we need to know how you are feeling."
Dan went to school the next day, like a trooper, and was promptly sent packing to the doctor's office, told not to return until he had a note saying he was swine-less. The lab results took 24 hours to get to us, so I packed up the girls and headed to my parents' condo.
This is what Dan looked like when he got back from the doctor's office:
He added the cross-eyes for effect, trying to make light of the situation. We were all pretty scared, though.
That said, I know the H1N1 turned out to be less serious than originally thought. All that fact and common sense aside, we were concerned. Especially since the tamiflu would have cost us $100 and not done much to fight the flu. We didn't have many avenues apart from just waiting. And maybe some of this:

Anyway, 24 hours of not sleeping much later, the lab results came back negative. I packed up my girls that minute and we came back home.
It seems a little silly, our reaction, in retrospect. I'm glad it's over, though both our little scare and our over-reaction.

The Virtue of Selfishness

2009-05-17T23:03:00.000-07:00

Today we went on a walk as a family. Elena, as she often does, started singing an improvised song. She said it was entitled, "I Love Mom." Great title, I though.
Here is a bit of what the lyrics were like, translated to English: "I love my mom, I love to kiss my mom's hand, I love it when mom smiles at me, I love my mom." Brilliant. Move over, Babyface. She went on, "I love my dad, too. I love him and I love mom. I love LeiLei. And I love me. I love me a lot. I love me and mom loves me."
You get the picture.
Walking along, on this gorgeous spring day, listening to my daughter sing this song, it made me realize that there is no greater thing I could teach my kids. Sure, you want them to be civil and not pick their nose in public (especially not in front of the congregation at church when she's standing in front, singing a song). But what is more important than for a kid to learn to love themselves?
I'm a fan of Ayn Rand's school of thought, that everything we do is for selfish reasons. We do things, ultimately, for our own good. There is no better, more selfish thing than learning to love who you are. There is also no better, more selfless thing than learning to love who you are. You will become a contributing member of society if you believe you can, you'll be able to help others if you love yourself enough to love others, and, most importantly, you will be able to make peace with your God - whomever that might be - if you love yourself enough to know you deserve it.
Seeing Elena take a small, musical step in that direction made me very happy, indeed. Maybe I can learn a thing or two from my 4 year old.

APCall: Runner

2009-05-11T14:22:00.000-07:00

I decided, as a freshman in college, that I was going to start running to stay in shape. I went a couple of times, hated it, listened to people tell me how I'd soon catch the "runner's bug," and tried running a couple more times. Sixteen years later, after dozens of sporatic attempts to catch that elusive bug, I still don't get it.

I run more often now, because it's a great way to drop weight and because otherwise I can't play soccer for more than 5 minutes. Ok, mostly the latter reason. But that doesn't mean I don't want to catch the running bug! I really really do.

Several years ago, a friend suggested I enter a formal race to love running. I chose the Susan Komen 5k because my aunt died from breast cancer and I wanted my money and my running to be for something important. I did the Couch to 5K program and made it about 2 weeks into it until I got so bored I couldn't run another step. Then I got pregnant and the only place I ran was to the toilet to throw up. Fast forward a few years. Last summer I actually signed up to do a 5k, but ended up passing the entrance to my friend because I wanted to see my niece get married. Ok, also I was scared about running 3.1 consecutive miles.

Enter: 2009. New, kick-A me. I signed up for the Susan Komen 5K and even recruited a couple of friends from my Urban Family to run with me.

These girls are both seasoned runners who nearly had to walk so I could keep up. Rachel, in fact, lapped me once or twice, I'm sure. But they were awfully kind, and very supportive, especially when I made us start 15 minutes late because my mommy-bladder wouldn't wait until the end of the race.

Afterward, I got to see my good friend Jenny, who had lost her mother to breast cancer one year almost to the day before the race.

Cancer's a bitch. Jenny, on the other hand, is wonderful, as was her mother.

The paper the next day said 18,000 people showed up to run, walk, and roll through those 5 kilometers. It was a sight to behold. My favorite people of the 18,000, besides Jenny and my girls from the UF? Definitely the chonis boys, who ran with their support very visible.

So, in conclusion, I still hate running, but now I feel more accomplished, more fulfilled, and part of something bigger. Who knows, maybe that is the first symptom of the running bug... We can only hope.

All Things Come Full Circle

2009-05-04T22:37:00.000-07:00

When I was a kid, the greatest thing that could happen on a random Sunday afternoon was Dad pulling the popcorn popper out of the basement. He'd get a big metal bowl, 3 or 4 lbs each of butter and salt, and I'd stand there and watch the little kernals of corn become big fluffy popcorn.

Microwave popcorn can't hold a candle to air-popped. Don't ask me why, but it "is" in the same sense that Mount Everest "is", or that Alma Cogan "isn't". (just for you, Andy)

On our last trip to Idaho, I saw my father's poor air-popper, hiding away in my parents' "Mormon Closet," so dubbed by my cousins because that is where my parents keep their food storage.

I asked if it ever got used, and dad said no. Now, for a little background, Dan and I don't believe that owning a microwave is beneficial. We've tried it twice, and each time just give it away because we hardly use it. Therefore, making popcorn without a microwave and without an air-popper is hardly easy. So I asked for the popper. And while I was being cheeky, I asked for some of their popcorn from food storage. I didn't dare ask for the big metal bowl, though it was all that was missing from the equation. I half expected them to come running out to the car with it and say "You forgot this! How can you make popcorn without a 5 gallon bowl?"

I set it all up the following night. My girls were just as fascinated by the popper as I was as a kid. I love it. I will be making popcorn as often as they request it. A #10 can of popcorn goes a long way and will make a lot of memories for our little family.

What it Feels Like to be a Mom.

2009-04-20T08:17:00.000-07:00

I was asked to give a talk (sermon) in church on Mothers' Day, I reluctantly agreed. Now, I'm not the kind of person that shies away from public speaking. I actually really enjoy teaching in front of a group.

My problem comes in that I don't really consider myself a good mom. (I'm not fishing for compliments, please don't take it that way.) I have many friends that I'd consider great moms, some I'd consider exceptional moms, some are struggling with mediocrity just like me.

Finally I had resigned myself to talking about the calling of Motherhood to all women, not just those of us who get up for 3 a.m. feedings, as outlined by Sheri Dew in the conference talk that convinced me to have kids. I'm not kidding. Deseret Book's CEO talked me into having children.

Then the Bishop called. My topic, he said, is "What it feels like to be a mom."

What the hell kind of topic is that?

You want to know what it feels like? It's hard. It's sad. It's all-consuming. It's tough. It's impossible. It's stressful. It's heart-breaking. It's frustrating. It's gross, at times.

But then, once in a great while, a grubby little hand reaches up to your face and you hear "Yo te quiero, mamá." Once in a great while, you're up for that 3 a.m. feeding and your baby smiles you that smile that is just for mom, that nobody else sees. Once in a great while, your kids tackle you in a "great big dinosaur hug" that knocks you to the floor where you land on a cushion of giggles and tickles.

So, what does it feel like to be a mom? It sucks. And it's great. It's tough. But I wouldn't change it for the world.
----------------------------

Now, please, ladies, after reading my reflections, will you please give me some words of wisdom for my church talk? What does it feel like to be a mom?

Redirecting...

2009-04-07T00:12:00.000-07:00

Recently, I spent a few days with my friend Claudia. Those faithful followers read all about it here. I've been thinking about something from the trip quite a bit lately, and have decided to get that blog out of my brain and on the screen.

Claudia has a GPS system in her cell phone. Anyone who lives or has driven in DC knows that the streets there are pretty tricky. The first night I arrived, I asked Clau to take me to see the monuments on the Mall at night, to do a drive-by at least, since I was advised that night time was the best time to see them. Well, we drove around in circles for a while, trying to get to a certain freeway that we just kept missing. The GPS kept telling Clau, "keep left, take first exit, etc," but somehow Claudia just couldn't make the turns in time to get to where we needed to go. Every time she'd miss a turn, the GPS lady would say "REDIRECTING."

I kept seeing the giant obelisque lit up for the world to see, just out of reach. Finally I asked if she could just watch for the Washington Monument and drive towards it. She said she had tried that very thing when she first arrived to DC, to no avail. We had to follow the exact directions that the GPS lady was giving us, or we'd never reach our destination.

We spent a lot of time "redirecting" that weekend. It became a bit of a joke, whenever we'd pass an exit we were supposed to take, I'd listen for "Redirecting" and the nice GPS lady would find us another way to get to where we need to go.

In my life, I've really tried to find a path that I want to follow, a set of values I'd like to live by. Sometimes I forget what is supposed to be important to me, and miss those turns that I should be taking. Last weekend was a chance for me to be told "REDIRECTING," as I was taught by people I trust to see the pathway better than I can.

No matter what road you are on in life, it's good to listen to your GPS, because we all need to be redirected every once in a while.

To the April Fools Out There

2009-04-01T12:13:00.000-07:00

The last time I had a really big prank pulled on me for April Fool's Day was on my mission, and I didn't think it was funny at all. It really really pissed me off.
Since then, I have yet to see humor in the big jokes. Sure, I tell the occasional "I'm pregnant" joke once in a while on 4-1 to get some reactions, but nothing that will harm people.
Is this a sign of old age? Boringness? I don't know. Maybe when my girls are older and can apprieciate a good saran-wrap-over-the-toilet-seat-gag I'll enjoy it more, but for now, April Fools is foolish.

A Shorter Blog with Less Stuff

2009-03-30T07:21:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I went to pick up Elena from primary and she was all smiles. "Mom!" she screamed, "I was the SPOTLIGHT!"

It seems that every week they pick one kid to talk a little about during sharing time (when all the 3-11 year olds are together) and yesterday the lot fell on Elena. She was so excited that everyone now knows she speaks Spanish, loves to eat sushi, and has blond hair.

They gave her a little windmill and some treats, and you'd think she just won the lottery.

All this just 2 weeks after she gave her first talk in primary. She wrote it herself, and Dan printed up images of what she wanted to say on some papers to help her remember. You should have seen her, up there with her sheets of paper, so sure of herself. Nothing like the Litte Red Hen fiasco of 1979 (when I gave my first primary talk)(er, when I was *supposed to* give my first primary talk).

I'm so proud of my little Sparky!

A long blog with a lot of stuff in it.

2009-03-23T11:15:00.000-07:00

When Dan asked me what I wanted for my birthday, I was quick to answer: A weekend with Claudia! Clau and I have been the closest of friends for over a decade, when we were mission companions. She moved to DC 2 years ago and I haven't seen her in at least that long. I was really excited to be able to catch up over late night tea in a way you just can't do over email and phone conversations. The touristy aspect of the trip really didn't interest me as much as the thought of seeing Clau, Shay, and Amanda (my niece/cuz).

So, Wednesday I flew through Chicago where I remembered a trip in high school when we flew through O'hare. I remember loving the cieling and the floors. Finally when I arrived at Regan Airport, I waited for Clau, then we went to eat at Señor Guapos for dinner. I was pooped after that, so we just went home and chatted until I fell asleep half-chat.

Thursday morning I met up with Amanda. We went to metro stop @ Pentagon City and rode that to the Smithsonian stop. First we went to the Museum American History. We then tried to get into Aerospace but the line was too long, same as with Archives. Then was the Natl Art Gallery, where a Pompeii exhibit was hidden. We searched over an hour and never found it. When we finally discovered that it was in the other building (apparantly Natl Art Gallery is housed in 2 buildings), we decided to have lunch @ a hot dog vendor outside in the rain. Once we were replenished, we hit the Washington monument and the WW2 memorial. The WWII was pretty busy, not with people, but in the design. We then got a call from Jesus(Amanda's husband) to meet him on the opposite side of the Mall from where we were, so I got to fulfill my dream of going running on the Mall. I just didn't expect it to be in jean while carrying a purse.

So we went back to Pentagon City to meet up with Clau. On the way to dinner, we drove past Iwo Jima. I guess I didn't expect it to be just on the side of the road. We had dinner @ Fogo de Chao, which is a Rodizio on crack. SO AMAZING! Then we went to see the play The Dog in the Manger at the Shakespearian Theatre. Also amazing. So good!

Friday, my good friend Sharon picked me up and we headed to the National Mall. 1st stop was the Lincoln memorial. It looks just like it does in the movies, or on pennies. Then we went to the Foggy Bottom metro stop to meet up with Manda and Rochelle (her super-cool sister-in-law). On the way we went past the State Dept (I waved to Hillary), the Kennedy Center, and then found the Einstein statue.

From there we went to Vietnam Memorial. Something just hit me so hard, I just bawled to see all those names on the wall. It was like standing on hallowed ground.

From there we went to the Korean War Memorial, saw reflecting pond again (so pretty), and then walked around the tidal basin, which apparantly will be full of cherry blossoms in a week. Bah.

Shay took us to her favorite spot, FDR Memorial, which quickly became my favorite spot, too. I photographed several quotes, like "Men and nature must work hand in hand, the throwing out of balance of these resources throws out of balance also the lives of men."

After that we decided to stop wearing out our shoes and go to Cafe Asia in Rosslyn for lunch, where Manda had her first pad thai. Amanda and Rochelle had to leave after lunch, so I hung out with Shay for a while longer in Crystal City, then we went to Del Rey to walk around and eat dessert at the Dairy Godmother.

When we finally found Clau later on to hand me off, she and I headed to Norfolk, where I finally met Dion, Clau's boyfriend. We drove to Virginia Beach and went on a double date (or a chaperoned date, either way) to Zushi, dessert from the Cheesecake Factory, then we just hung out at home.

Saturday, we woke up after fighting perro salchicha all night for the bed, and headed out the door for VA beach. There we found a wooden foto booth and froze on the boardwalk. So nice to be by the ocean. Afterwards, we headed to Colonial Williamsburg and the college of William and Mary.

That night we had dinner @ CO CO Sala a chocolate restaurant, where everything has chocolate. For example, I ordered a dish of bacon mac and cheese and it came with a strip of chocolate covered bacon right on top. The entrees were little, like tapas almost, so that you could enjoy their 3 course desserts. Yes, 3 course desserts. AMAZING! Check out their menu. We split the Indian dessert courses.

After dinner, and a drive around georgetown, we headed home to watch some youtube clips and laugh like little girls until I passed out from exhaustion.

Sunday, we slept in (yeay!) and caught church at a nearby ward. After that we went to Arlington National Cemetary and walked around for a long while. It was a lovely walk, with some spectacular views. Then we went back to Clau's and drank tea on the porch until it was time to go.

I'd love to give more details but they aren't coming to me right now. As I remember tid bits, I'll post them later on.

That's me.

2009-03-01T20:12:00.000-08:00

I was reminded of my favorite poem by Maya Angelou today. I'm posting it here, with a special shout out to those phenomenal women in my life. Thank you.

PHENOMENAL WOMAN
by Maya Angelou
Pretty women wonder where my secret lies
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me. I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing of my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me. Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them,
They say they still can't see.
I say
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me. Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
The palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

"Um, sorry my kid just said that. And that, too."

2009-02-22T13:02:00.000-08:00

As you know, my dad had a heart attack in November. The way we explained it to the girls is that Grandpa has an owie on his heart.

This was a cute explanation when Elena drew him a valentine with band-aid on a heart. It was cute when she did "sana sana colita de rana" to him when she saw him in December.

Yesterday, however, it got a little out of control. Yesterday, Elena was looking at my dad for a while, obviously thinking deep 4 year-old thoughts. Finally she asked, "Grandpa, is your heart bigger than my heart?"

"Yes," said my dad, and my mom showed Elena how everyone's heart is the size of their fist.

"Well," Elena said, as she put her hands on his belly, "I think your heart must be really fat, and that's why it has an owie on it."

I tried to explain that her Grandpa's heart wasn't in his stomach, and it didn't matter how big his belly was, that his heart was still the size of his fist.

"Oh," she said. "Then Grandpa must have a baby in his belly."

Doh.

More Parenting Help

2009-02-16T22:30:00.000-08:00

I am, for the most part, a Stay-At-Home-Mom. I spend a lot of dang time with my kids. Those of you who know me well (or at least for a long time) know that I didn't used to want to have children. Being married to Dan changed all that. I knew that his remarkable genes had to be passed on.

So, I became a mom. I'm not going to win world's best mom anytime soon, but I like my job. I love being the one who teaches my kids new stuff, who gets to see them do things for the first time.

I read a quote once that said something to the effect of "I love my children with all my heart. I just can't love them with all my time." (Pearl Buck) This brings me to my question for all you seasoned parents and for all you folks who don't have kids but have ideas on what you'd do in our stead. :)

How do I get my 4 year old and my 2 year old to play by themselves? They always want me to play with them, to dress their dolls, to tell me what's going on in the movie, to pour the tea at the tea party. How can I get them to play alone (or at least with each other) and let me do (fill in the blank) in peace?

A Big Thanks to You and You and You

2009-02-10T09:21:00.000-08:00

I was sitting in church last Sunday, half-listening to the sermon and bored out of my mind. The speaker had a droll voice and it was nearly putting me to sleep. Finally, after checking the clock for the hundredth time, I decided to pay attention and maybe make something out of what he was saying. I heard one line, "We should be thankful for the friends in our life who have helped make us who we are today." That was enough to get me thinking about the people I have decided to surround myself with. Since a few of those folks read my blog, I thought to write down thanks to a few of you. To list everyone, I'd need a lot more cyber-space.
Thanks, mom and dad, for putting up with my crap just enough to let me make my own decisions and not enough to make me disrespectful. Thanks Lito for loving me even when I think I'm unloveable. Thanks to my daughters, who love me and want to be with me and make me try harder to be good. Thanks to Lelani, for letting me sleep in your bed when I was little and for letting me follow you around for 20+ years. Thanks Paul, for being there for me last year when I needed someone the most. Thanks Andy, for being a good long-distance sibling who seems a lot closer when I need a brotherly advice. Thanks Lina for reminding me when I'm not living up to my self-imposed standards. Thanks Pancho for giving such great brotherly hugs and making the best yerbamate ever. Thanks Clau for being my sister and sharing my most sacred spiritual experience with me that day in Chula Vista. Thanks Uxua for making me better than what I was when we met. Thanks Jatina Greenhaulgh for having a weirder name than me in elementary school. Thanks Ms. Woods for teaching me to say things without talking. Thanks Wynn for being smarter than me and making me always want to do a little better than last time, if only just to beat you. Thanks Camilla for teaching me to eat cookies. Thanks Rachel for making me go to young women's activities and convincing me to finish my young woman recognition award; I wouldn't have done it without you. Thanks DanW for teaching me to crochet and swing dance. Thanks Coach Stu for taking on the Bad News Bears of girls soccer. Thanks Clinton for being a friends when I needed one. Thanks Carrie for teaching me about forgiveness. Thanks KC for not being afraid of being who you are and for being so darn likeable. Thanks Sharon for always being a positive influence. Thanks Damon for writing me a song. Thanks David Jack for always making me smile. Thanks Vero and the Rojas clan for taking such good care of us in Tacoma. Thanks Elisha for letting me discover my true self and not making fun of me when there were so many opportunities to do so. Thanks ChrisWhite for trying new things and taking me along for the ride all these years from all-weekend parties and NACANACANACA to minivans and toddlers. Thanks to AmyNothingLemon for being my first friend at college and gently reminding me when I needed help remembering who I was. Thanks Jarrod Adam Craig for respecting me in my beliefs and never - not even in jest - suggesting I turn from them, even when you didn't share them. Thanks Julia for being a strong woman from the first day I met you, oh, and thanks for letting me crash at your and Paulie's apt so much that summer I didn't have a place to live. Thanks to Ms. Clough, for not putting up with my lazy self and making me earn my grades. Mrs. Brown did that, too. They might be the only ones who did. Thanks to Polly for hanging out with me at Lagoon that day and talking to me the whole ride back; it helped me learn not to judge a book by it's cover. Thanks to AmyNoelle, for having integrity and always doing what you say you will do and what you profess to believe. Thanks to Christian for the light saber duels. Thanks to Marcos for being himself, a guy I love. Thanks to Aislin for reminding me of me when I was young. Thanks to Herr Ward who took me (and 20 others) to Germany and didn't kill a one of us. Thanks to NatB for being an example to me in a moment you had no idea anyone would know about later on. Thanks to Lauri for listening to me and being one of my best friends, in addition to being my cousin. Thanks to Oliver, for making music and being true to himself. Thanks to Lori for constantly surprising me over and over and over. AOT. Thanks to Dawn Christensen for sharing Strawberry Shortcake dolls with me. Thanks to Russ for introducing me to the love of my life. Thanks to Donavon for being a 3 decade friend (almost) and for dragging me out of my nerd-dom once in a while back in school. Thanks to AngieM(Ellsworth) for having the most infectious smile I've ever seen. Thanks to Zaugg for having the most infectious laugh I've ever heard. Thanks to Giffi for talking to me about things besides Dora and princesses, making sure my brain still works. Thanks to Dianna South for having the coolest sleepovers ever in junior high. Thanks to the guys in Tuesday night soccer (Jared, Jeremy, John, Tony, etc) for pushing back and not letting me have the ball. Thanks to Tauna for not letting me take lunch breaks and teaching me the value of 100% obedience. Thanks to Dr Steinhoff for teaching me logic. Thanks to AngieM(cousin) for always opening her house and her arms to a long-distance cuz. Thanks to Angie Ure for teaching me to watch Doris Day movies. Thanks to Natalie J for teaching me, the hard way, that only true friends are worth your time. Thanks to Gabriel in San Diego for being ready for me. Thanks to Anondi for buying me a ticket to Europe and telling me about it later. Thanks to my UF, for being just that. Thanks to Jimmy, for making the right choice. Thanks to Tex from Sandy Hills Ward for teaching the best lesson on marriage I have ever heard in my life.

I feel like I've just scratched the surface. If you aren't on here, it's because I'm stupid and forget stuff. Thanks again.

Charity, part 2

2009-02-05T09:19:00.000-08:00

Why is it that we give other people power over us? I’ve been thinking about this for the past few weeks.
Alanis sang about it in one of my favorite AM songs.
I fully acknowledge, in my writing about it, that the culpable ones are those who give away that power. Sure, if someone hurts us, they are guilty of whatever their sin, but if we allow people to hurt us, or become offended by what they’ve done, the problem lies within.
One of my very favorite LDS Conference talks was given by President Benson in 1989. He said, “Our enmity toward God takes on many labels, such as rebellion, hard-heartedness, stiff-neckedness, unrepentant, puffed up, easily offended, and sign seekers. The proud wish God would agree with them. They aren’t interested in changing their opinions to agree with God’s.”
I recently wrote asking for help in identifying how to be a better person, more filled with love of mankind. This is a big thing for me. I realize that by allowing someone to hurt us, and by being offended by their actions or words, it’s really a demonstration of the lack of love within us.
Writing that down and accepting it in our lives are two totally different things. How can we let people in to love them if we can’t open ourselves up to be hurt by them? I honestly don't know how that works. I, personally, haven't found that balance. I'd rather keep certain people out than to let myself be hurt.
Any thoughts on how to strike this balance?

Tan chiquitita, y camina!

2009-01-26T17:37:00.000-08:00

January 25th is a big day in the Pickett family. Dad, Lelani and Alyssa all celebrate their birthday on the same day! It's amazing, really. Especially 19 years ago, we had a special party for my father's 50th birthday, Lelani's 25th birthday, and Alyssa's 1st birthday. Amazing how time flies. I remember so much of that day, how magical it was, how amazing friends were for traveling hours to be there. Friends and family wrote letters of their favorite memories with my dad and my sister and my mom put them into albums as their present. Now, the big present to all of us is that dad survived his heart attack and made it to another birthday. Like my mom said, all his birthdays are big ones from now on.

On a completely unrelated note,

My friend Zito invited me to play calle ball with her. I totally suck at it but it is amazingly fun. The soccer ball is a little smaller, maybe like size 4, and it's made of rubber outer and a little heavier. The only way I can explain it is if you've been playing tennis your whole life and you're not terrible at tennis and got invited to play squash. Same concept, but the ball is totally different and reacts in a different way. Super cool, though. They play in a parking garage after hours, which only makes it cooler. And colder. Very very cold.

Some New Fave Quotes

2009-01-21T06:47:00.001-08:00

Herr Ward was my German teacher in high school. He also led the exchange I took part in the summer between my junior and senior year.
That's not what I remember best about him. He was the hippie teacher. He played Led Zepplin for us when we took our tests. He wore birks (with socks in the winter) every dang day. He gave us little things to think about to help - me, at least - break out of my politically conservative bubble. Great guy. He was diagnosed with cancer a few years back and kicked cancer's trash!
I recently found his blog with these quotes at the bottom of the page. They speak volumes.

Favorite Latin Quotes
Cum catapultae prosciptae erunt tum soli proscript catapultas habebunt!

When catapults are outlawed, only outlaws will have catapults!

Qui tacet consentit.

Silence implies consent.

Homo Sapien non urinat en vendum.

Civilized people do not urinate in the wind.

Illegitimi non carborundum!

Don't let the bastards get you down!

A Post That has Nothing to do With KIDS

2009-01-17T13:20:00.000-08:00

I don't want to become one of those people who only blogs about their kids. I love my children, but the day my life becomes ONLY about them, I'm in trouble.

I've been thinking a lot about charity lately. Not the kind of charity that you go and serve at a soup kitchen or give your old jeans away to Salvation Army, I'm talking about pure love. Loving people in spite of their flaws, loving yourself in spite of your flaws, and knowing that everyone is important, regardless of what you may think of them at that particular time.

It's pretty Mother Teresa kind of stuff I don't really know how to achieve that kind of love. It's hard enough to fake niceties when you know it's appropriate, but to truly be a genuinely loving person? Near impossible.

I've tried to think back at the people I know who fit this description, at least part of the time. It's a short list. What do they have I don't? Humility, for one.

So the BIG question is, how do I learn to love like that? An obvious answer for you religious folk is prayer. I don't think that prayer alone is the answer to anything. I believe that God wants us to ask for help but then work our hineys off in pursuit of what we want. Also, for non-religious folk, there has to be an answer. Being kind isn't the exclusive property to church-goers.

Perhaps more than a vent, today this blog is a request. Give me your ideas, if you are so inclined. I'd love to hear them.

Safety Kids! I'm proud to be one; smile when you see one!

2009-01-15T07:51:00.000-08:00

This is for all you Safety Kids grads out there. Ok, maybe the rest of you will like this, too.

I've been talking lately with Elena about what to do if a person trys to touch her inappropriately, put her in their car, take her away, whatev. We review often, and even practice yelling NO! during boring car rides. I think it's sinking in. Especially after last night.

I told Dan about our lessons, and he asked Elena last night what she would do if a bad man tried to get her in his car. Elena dutifully responded "I'd kick and hit and scream NO! and do anything I needed to so I could get away. Then I'd run tell my teacher or you and mom. Then Eve (from WallE) would come and turn her hand into a PIUUU! (what she calls guns) and shoot the bad man until he became a skeleton!"

Woah.

Goodnight, Moon

2009-01-03T12:55:00.001-08:00

Sometimes, when you have kids, people will try to tell you what you HAVE to buy. "Oh, you don't have a sling/wipe warmer/Baby Bjorn/black and white mobile/cloth diapers/jogging stroller/removeable carseat, etc? Really, you HAVE to have one!"
NETI FACT #1:When someone tells I HAVE to do something, I won't do it. Tell me I CAN'T do something, and I will just to prove you wrong. Tell me I HAVE to do something and chances are I NEVER EVER WILL.
No other baby artifact (except maybe a microwave to heat up the bottles) has been suggested to me as a necessity so much as the book Goodnight, Moon by Margaret Wise Brown. Therefore, I didn't buy it and I refused to look for it when we went to the library.
One fine day, I was sick of the meager selection of Spanish books at the library and decided to give Buenas noches, Luna a try. It's magic. The girls are transfixed every time we open the cover. We checked it out of the library so many times that I finally had to ask one of the Abuelitas to buy it for Leah's birthday.
Now we read it religiously. That's a good term for it, too, because the girls reverence that book. They wiggle 23 hours and 55 minutes a day, including in their sleep, but when we open that book, their eyes are transfixed on that green room, the cow jumping over the moon, the bowl of mush, and the quiet old lady that whispers "hush."
Thanks, Meg W. Brown. I owe you one.
Post Script: if you know someone who's ready to calf-out (that's Rigby for "have a child"), do them a favor and buy them this book, in the board book style (babies love to tear and eat paper). Do not, under any circumstances, tell them they HAVE to read it to their kids, though, just in case.