I have always admired my grandmother. She lived well into her 90s, and was bedridden the last year of her life. Her hips, which had been replaced earlier in life, basically crumbled away, and she was unable to walk. She handled her situation with grace and composure, and I never heard her complain about something I’m sure was fairly painful.

I’ve learned this week that I most definitely do NOT take after her. (more…)

I went to the Y today for what my doctor called “an active rest”. I’m STILL trying to work through hamstring issues, and I’ve decided to work through them by running and being in pain. A winning strategy, I know. But my doctor suggested “active rests”, where I rest my hamstring while doing other things, so while getting back to running, I’m also throwing in some time on the bike.

Which I hate.

Riding a stationary bike makes me feel like a hamster on a wheel. Yes, I know you’re going to say it’s not that different than running on a treadmill but I’m here to say that it IS different, okay? I don’t know why, it just IS. Also, biking makes my bum sore. (more…)

This isn’t even a joke question.

Yesterday I was with a member of my activities committee, planning our next activity. It’s a mother/daughter campout, and we decided the theme should be “treasure seekers”. There’s lots to do with that, including some good scriptures about seeking the treasures of heaven, and we can hand out some fun little treasure/pirate themed favors and do some treasure/pirate crafts for the little ones (there is no age limit to this event, so we have to come up with stuff to do for 2-16 year olds). We were looking online for little things to get, and my friend said, “Fake tattoos would be fun, but that’s your call. I don’t want to offend anybody.” I looked at her like she was nuts, and she swore that SOMEbody would get offended. She said somebody was offended at the idea of face-painting once, because, she quoted, “We don’t write on our bodies.” (more…)

We lost our little Charlie between the week of Christmas and New Years.  Remember him?

After that, our plan was to go “dog-free” for a little while, and then eventually get a girl puppy. The dog free thing just didn’t happen.  I got crazy puppy hungry.  I was a whack job to live with.  I was constantly looking at picture of dogs at the county shelter, the humane society, and craigslist.  I visited the shelters, and saw many old, male, pit bulls.  Seriously a lot of pit bulls.  I looked at breeders.  I decided thousands of dollars was too much to spend on a dog.  I dreamed of dogs. And it soon became very clear that our “dog-free” period was going to be much, much shorter than planned.  Because come what may, I was getting a dog.

And so, we found some puppies that I wanted to look at.  And we went, and looked, and ended up with 2.  Because I loved one and DH loved the other.  If you don’t like to look at picture of other people’s pets, feel free to leave now. (more…)

Today I cheered a comment on FB that said something like, “Yay for sleeping through the night and using the potty!” This IS an exciting time in ANY mother’s life, and I felt the excitement. But then I thought, Oh my goodness have we become a boring bunch. Are mothers boring? Is motherhood just sort of a boring time? My mother once told me she complained of boredom to her sister after she had her first child, and my aunt replied, “That’s okay. You can handle a decade of boring, can’t you?” Come over and tell me what you think about boring, and if you’re NOT boring, please tell me how you stay funky, over at Segullah

It’s sometimes fun to recognize yourself in your kids.

Sometimes it’s not.

(more…)

I just looked at my last year’s resolutions.  I remembered all year that I was working on touching my toes, and guess what?  After about an hour of yoga, I can barely do it.  I wouldn’t say that worked out so well for me.  My hamstrings, they don’t like to stretch.  Still, I persevere.  They will do what I tell them to do.  I also went over the grocery budget goal.  Oopsies.

So, this year I am having a hard time coming up with anything.  It’s not that there aren’t things that need to get done, or that I can’t improve in any way.  It’s just that, well..this past year, a lot of Truly Awful Things have happened in our ward to Truly Wonderful People.  And it makes me sad.  (Not that I’m happy when bad things happen to bad people.  Bad things are just….bad.)

It does make me want to set a goal to “be more grateful”. Which I know is a vague goal, and vagueness bothers me, but that’s the one thing I really want to do.  

So to make the vague specific, I am buying a new gratitude journal and keeping it.  Writing stuff down is good.  It helps.

If nothing Truly Awful has happened to you this year - be grateful.  Hold your loved ones close.

Also, I would like to stay out of the hospital this year.  That is all.   

It’s New Year’s Day. Yay, Happy New Year! I was trying to think of something pithy to post, about, you know, goals and renewal and stuff, and I got looking over old posts. Then I got looking over other people’s old posts, and then just caught up in lazy surfing of some of my favorite blogs, wondering if they have changed over the years as much as we have.

And then I was reading an old post from another blog, a post I don’t ever remember reading. It was a good post, though, and it made me smile. Then I read the comments, and I got to one where I thought, “Totally. I agree 100%. Awesome comment, just exactly what I was thinking,” and then I checked to see if I knew the commenter, to see who is this person I have so much in common with because we think alike and she must therefore be a potentially awesome lunch date. (more…)

We have had a wonderful Christmas.

Remarkably low key, which usually makes me feel lonely, this Christmas felt like just the right pace. On Christmas Eve, my children went to bed early, and at 9:15, when I had two sleeping kids, a pile of wrapped presents, a mug of hot chocolate and a handsome snuggle buddy to watch “It’s a Wonderful Life” with me, I sighed a deep sigh of perfect contentment.

This week, we’ve been sleeping in ridiculously late, enjoying the fact that we really have no place to go. We’ve had some colds and coughs that have slowed us down even more (my husband actually slept until 2pm yesterday, with a low grade fever, and stayed in his pajamas until 4pm. At that point, you are way past the point of needing to get out of your pajamas and well into the zone of just getting in pjs early, but he did change his clothes for 5 hours left in his day, just on principle.). Slower=nice.

I’m not ready for January. Because January is not slow. (more…)

Let me say that I’m not a “Christmas Box” kinda fan. I’ll admit I haven’t read it, but something about these type of little books seems kitchy and annoying. Add to that Glenn Beck’s book, “The Christmas Sweater”, which has a tagline like, “Scarred deeply by the fateful events that transpired that day, Eddie begins a dark and painful journey toward manhood”, and the whole thing becomes gimmicky enough to make me want to vomit.

So when I received Jacob T. Marley for review, and saw that it was one of these miniature stocking stuffer books, my heart sank and I thought, I’m going to hate this. (more…)

Did someone say breasts?  I came here to seek breastal advice (shush, it’s a word now!) and lo there was already a breastal post up.  Two in one week!  Huzzah! (though it may make MMW seem “edgy” for a moment- yikes) I do love a good post about breasts.  Anyway, Heather’s post about the aesthetics, impact and allure of, and our relationships with our ladies is a perfect segue to my current quandary regarding their function.  But as I have shared previously, I cannot relate to the IBTC at all.  Period.  I digress.

A-hem. (more…)

I have small breasts. I spent my adolescence waiting, waiting, waiting to fill out like my friends, but when I went to college still in an A cup, I had to face that reality that nothing else was going to happen. I was there.

Modesty was never really an issue for me, because having small breasts was embarrassing, and I certainly didn’t want to call attention to the fact that I had no cleavage. So I never bought low cut tops, because really, what was the point? I also wasn’t exactly curvy in other places, and even skinny jeans aren’t particularly sexy if you are shaped like a 14 year old boy. (more…)

While I was at Boston University, the MIT and BU FHE groups got together. (Wow, that’s a lot of acronyms in one sentence. Sorry.) The activity was to make gingerbread houses out of graham crackers, then decorate them. Simple, easy, sounds like fun, yes?

In theory, sure. In practice, um, not so much. (more…)

Since nothing unusual ever happens to me (except occasionally people walking into my house randomly and trying to do my laundry) - I thought I would share a story that happened to my friend, SallyGirl.

Her husband is a teacher, so you know they have the big bucks.  Her son was walking the dog by the school, and ran into one of their favorite yard duty monitors.  She asked if they were struggling.  The boy didn’t quite know what she meant, but as it turns out, he ended up with a bag of groceries that the school collected for the needy.  He walks home with a big bag of groceries with Cheerios sticking out of the top. SallyGirl is cringing, but opens up the bag.

Groceries for the needy - in order of removal: (more…)

I like to think I have a wide comfort zone. That’s probably silly, and I’m probably wrong, but I like to think that, anyways. I feel like I’ve gotten to a place in my life where I have a fairly good grasp on what I like doing, what I don’t like doing, what I still have left to prove (not very much, actually), what dreams I’ve given up on because I’m too lazy, stupid, or both to accomplish them, and what I’m good at.

As far as church service goes, I’ve served in enough of a variety of callings also to know what I’m good at. Well, really, I’ve learned what I’m NOT good at.

I’m currently serving in such a calling. And it’s way outside my comfort zone. (more…)

For three years I have devoted 100s if not 1000s of hours to our elementary school PTA. 

I started out as the benefit chair and oversaw a silent auction fundraiser that raised over $18000 for our school.  It nearly killed me.  I thought I was done.

I was next in line to serve as PTA president, where I bemoaned here, that I didn’t want to do it and wanted to quit.  I persevered, and although I have no posts to reflect my year of service, it was worth my time and I’m glad I followed through with my commitment.  But, I really thought I was done.

This year, however, I am done.  My daughter’s 5^th grade year has pushed me to the edge, and I will never return. (more…)

I used to love it.

Now I hate it. (more…)

We are talking about weird Mormon food, over at Segullah. Come tell us your craziest experience with Mormon cuisine.

I’m sick. As in, can’t kick this cold, missed church on Sunday, have a hacking cough and battling laryngitis sick. I parked Little Sister in front of the TV this morning, told her we were skipping soccer, and slept as much as I could. I finally pulled myself together around noon, and shuffled downstairs. The shuffling proved to be a little too much effort, so when I got downstairs, I lay down on the couch. Little Sister was cheerful, and wanted to get something from the car. I told her she could go and get it. She tried to open the front door, but her little hands just couldn’t grasp the doorknob tightly enough to turn it.

“Mommy, I need some help!” (more…)

(First, a note - a lot of comments on Heather’s previous post went into moderation, I guess the word “sexy” will do that, so we apologize if your comment wasn’t there.  It should be now.)  (Unless you’re a spammer, then it’s not.)

Well, the long and the short of it is, there was a strange woman in my house when I got home yesterday.  I pulled into the driveway, saw a car I didn’t recognize, and hesitantly walked into my house, calling out “Hello?”  I hear “I’m back here!” and there in my bedroom, on my phone, is a person I don’t recognize.  She waves, yells ”Hi!” and goes back to the phone.

Do I know this person?  Who is she?  Did I miss something?

Do my kids know her?  Not a clue.  I go into the kitchen - call my husband. Is someone supposed to be here?  Not that he knows of. Did he put this bottle of wine in the sink?  (Yes, we cook with it. We’re going to hell.  It’s OK)  Um, no, he did not.  He advises me to talk to her and call the cops. (more…)