HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY FROM ALL OF US TO YOU

a (thirteenth) confession

I can't ever remember how old I am. Like EVER! It changes way too often. Spence has to remind me of my age on a regular basis. Sometimes, when he's not around, I have to call Breah and ask her our age. 50% of the time we're the same age. The other 50% of the time I have to add a year.

And since I haven't confessed in a while…a (fourteenth) confession.

Two ladies knocked on our door tonight. They wanted to talk politics, trying to convince us to vote one way or another on the up and coming elections. When Spence answered the door they asked him if his folks were home. He laughed and told them that they might be, but they lived in a different state so he wasn't sure. One of the ladies jaw dropped.  She looked again at Spencer and asked him if he owned the hosue. He nodded. And then, are you ready for this? She gave him a high-five! A HIGH FIVE! Seriously. Like, way to go buddy, you da' man!  SCHWEET!  A HIGH-FIVE!  I'm suprised she didn't lean in for a chest bump.

I’m still laughing just thinking about it. Strange. But funny.

Just sayin’

Spence and I Redboxed Twilight: New Moon over the weekend.

{Sidenote:

Yes. This was my first time seeing it.

And no. I didn't read the books.

Gasp! I know.}

Anyways.

Watching the movie made me realize something. You know how sometimes you have a bad day. How sometimes 'life gives you lemons'. The 'world's out to get you'. You 'can't do no right'. You know, the 'glass half-empty' kinda day.

Well, on those days we should all remember it could always be worse! You could move to Small Town, USA and fall in love with a vampire AND a werewolf!

Gosh ddaanng that chic's bad luck.

Are you a Twilight fan?

The Weather Report

Well, hello there.

We flew kites on Tuesday.

It was cold.

And windy.

Almost too windy to fly kites. Even.

But, we wore our winter coats.

And tried to ignore the wind.

And managed to completely enjoy ourselves.

So much so that there was a smidgen of
a{four-year-old} fit
when it was time to leave.

And then yesterday.

Yesterday, we spent the day at the park.

The weather was beautiful.

Sunny.

Warm enough to get red checks.

And to crave a nice cold glass of ice water.

And the company was wonderful.

It was a day spent with some of my favorite people.

And their kids.

{more to come about that}

Just my luck.
Tomorrow we will probably wake up to snow.
'Cause that's how it goes in Idaho.

{please, oh please NO SNOW}

{P L E A S E}


Happy weekend, my friends.

Whatever the weather may be.

P.S.

Per your requests pictures of
the MASSIVE BED in all its MASSIVE GLORY
will be posted soon.

Pictures of me trying to move
the MASSIVE BED in all its MASSIVE GLORY
will NOT be posted, Erin.

an assemblage of short stories

The other day we were riding in the car when Poison's "Every Rose Has Its Thorn" came on the radio. After Spence and I belted out the chorus Spencer stated, "This song was the shiz back in the day. We'd listen to it and cry while peggin' our pants."

Oh my goodness, I laughed.  AND LAUGHED.

Because the image of Spencer and his buddies crying to Poison. Funny!

The image of Spence rocking the PEGGED pants. Hil-ar-ious!

*****

We bought a new canopy bed frame. I found it on a random search on Craigslist. When I told my mom about my Craigslist find she paused, looked at me and muttered, "Craigslist!? {gasp} Isn't that some kind of sex thing!"

*****

And speaking of our new bed, when we got it home we realized that there was NO WAY, NO HOW we were going to be able to fit the MASSIVE BED in all its MASSIVE GLORY into our master bedroom doorframe. {Aside from a stick of dynamite…and don't think we didn't think about it}.

We hauled the bed out of the back of the truck, through the double red doors, up the stairs, down the hallway and to the doorframe leading to our master bedroom.

"SSSHUT-UP! (audible swallow) there's no possible way this thing's gonna fit" I grumbled to Spencer.

So we hauled the bed back down the hallway, around the corner, down the stairs and into the living room. A process that included much grunting on my part. I threw myself on the couch next to the MASSIVE BED in all its MASSIVE GLORY and plotted on how we were going to get the large about of money back for a MASSIVE BED in all its MASSIVE GLORY that wouldn't fit into our master bedroom.

"We've just handed a wad of money to a complete stranger on Craigslist {not the sex one, the other one} for a bed that will obviously have to be used as high-end firewood", I grunted.

{No.  I don't typically overreact.  Why do you ask?}

While I was busy whining and complaining, Spence went all Mythbusters on me. He made a paper cutout of the doorframe. TO SCALE! And a paper cutout of the bed frame. TO SCALE! And tried different angle and degrees and then finally scientifically articulated, "by my calculation if you stand on one foot while holding your arm up in the air like this and then give me a 'woot woot' I'm about 68.5 percent certain we will be able to get the MASSIVE BED in all its MASSIVE GLORY into our bedroom."**

And so we tried it. And, get this…IT WORKED!

We only had to make a few small incisions {as in completely dismantle} the canopy portion of the bed, and then after a long night and a whole lot of through the double red doors, up the stairs, down the hallway and to the doorframe leading to our master bedroom. We finally got the MASSIVE BED in all its MASSIVE GLORY into our master bedroom.

This is the part that you all stand and applaud.

No really, STAND. NOW A P P L A U D!

Thank you.

**he may or may not have said that exact phrase

*****

And then we bought a new mattress. Do you want to know what sucks? Buying a new mattress.

End story.

*****

On Sunday I took a nap. Spence and the kids got into my 30 year supply of dish sponges. {What?! I'm Mormom.  And I shop at Costco.  Geez.} 

While I napped, they made these.

Jace has carried around a sponge ever since.

*****

One of my best friends from high school, Lacy, and her two adorable children came and stayed with us last weekend. When they arrived I was in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on dinner. Jadelyn, Lacy's six year old daughter, walked into the kitchen and upon seeing me stopped dead in her tracks, "Oh" she surprisingly exclaimed, "You don't look ONE BIT how I'd imaged!"

Well.

Alrighty then.

What had she imaged? And how did I not resemble that. ONE BIT!

I'm sure it was my radiating beauty that caught her by surprise. Or…maybe not.

But, maybe.

*****

It was so fun to have Lacy over. SO FUN! Like WAY FUN, you guys. It was just like a high school sleep-over. I even had a big'ole zit on my chin to boot. So you know…just like high school. Expect instead of staying up ALL.NIGHT.LONG talking about our current boyfriend situations and what so-and-so said during the football game we instead stayed up {almost} ALL.NIGHT.LONG and talked about the joys of family life, trials and tribulations we've overcome and how we parent and wife. Oh but don't worry it was also peppered with a little who married who. Which led to a little who divorced who. And there were some, "Oh my gosh did you hear yada, yada, yada…," and "Speaking of that did you know blah, blah, blah…"! So yeah, just like high school. Expect with a whole lot less LIKE TOTALLY's!

I've always loved to talk to Lacy. She makes me comfortable. She validates me. She listens and advises. Sometimes I regret things I say. But, not with Lacy. Not once did I have that 'well now, THAT was a bit too much information, wasn't it Kim'  kind of feeling. And really, if you know me, that's saying something.

Let's do it again, Lacy. LIKE TOTALLY do it again!

Dear Brynlee: On your 4th birthday

My Brynlee,

You're four! Four-years-old. I can't believe it.

The other day, on the way home from the dentist, you and I had a talk about growing up. You told me that someday you will be the mommy and I will be the grandma. And when that happens you will take your kids to the "kid dentist" and you will have to go to the "mommy and daddy dentist". The dentist where you "don't even get to pick a prize"! And someday, you said, you and the daddy will want to go watch a mommy and daddy movie. And so you and the daddy will go to the movies. And I'll be the grandma, so I will stay home and babysit your kids!

And you're right. Someday that will happen. Someday you will be all grown-up. Someday you won't need me to snuggle you before bed, or tell you that you can't have a treat before dinner. Someday you will insist that pigtails are for babies, and pink is no longer your favorite color. Someday, when you're the mommy, you will understand the extent to which a mother loves her daughter.

I'm afraid that, that someday, is much sooner than any mommy would ever want it to happen. 

And because of that I'm going to love you. Cherish you. Hug you. As MUCH as I possibly can.  And believe me, that's a whole lot!

****

You have absolutely loved pre-school with Miss Jenni. I was visiting with Miss Jenni the other day and she proudly charged you as being one of her best students. EVER. Which is quite a compliment as she's taught years of pre-school and you are a year younger than the age group of kids that she usually teaches. She said that you grasped concepts quickly, are excellent at following directions and are always kind and considerate of your classmates and their feelings. It made me proud. I was nervous when we first signed you up for preschool. I was nervous because you were nervous. You have always been extremely bashful and timid in unfamiliar situations. I knew that pre-school would help you overcome a lot of these anxieties, but I was nervous still the same. Pre-school has helped you come out of your shell. When you were younger you would hide your little face and not respond when anyone acknowledged you or talked to you. You don't do that anymore. You're still fairly reserved in new or unfamiliar situations, but your timidness is accompanied with a quiet confidence.

You are very observant. You love to watch, examine and take in all that is going on around you. You remember details that I forget or never notice in the first place. Because you usually don't enjoy being center of attention, you instead spend a lot of your time listening and observing. Nothing goes unnoticed with you.

Arts and crafts are by far your favorite pastime. You love to create. You deliver handmade cards to dad, Jace and I at least once a day. You love to make bead necklaces, to make "books" by stapling together all your freshly colored masterpieces, and to paint, draw and color. Your new favorite thing is to print coloring pages off the internet. You could do it all day if I would allow. Your artwork is creative and colorful. It always makes me happy.

About a year ago you and I made a deal; as long as you stayed in your clothes all day long you could chose what you did or didn't wear to bed. To this day you sleep in your underwear. Every night you put on your pajamas. We'll brush teeth, go potty, say prayers, tell stories and then when it's time to go to bed you'll ditch your pajamas before finding comfort between your blankets.

Pink is your favorite color. Tom and Jerry your favorite cartoon. And you absolutely love vanilla ice cream on an ice-cream cone. You hate socks, having "boogies", taking any kind of medicine, and when your hair gets in your face. You wear 3T clothing and a size 8/9 shoe. You have learned to "pump" on the swing and are trying to learn to jump rope. You aren't into dolls or dress-up but love stuffed animals. You love to go on treasure hunts around the house. You will put on your backpack, put a headband around your forehead, turn on a flashlight and inspect the house for "gadgets" gathering bobby pins, stickers, toys and whatever else you happen across.

You're very particular about how you like things. A bit of a perfectionist. You like your blankets to be straight. If your pants or shirt sleeves are to long they must be rolled up. Twice. And they must be rolled evenly. Your socks must be without crease. Every toy must be taken out of the tub before you will wash your hair. I suppose you get these characteristic from me. But sometimes, my dear, it's extreme.

Your dad is your best friend. You love him. Long to be with him. It's perfectly sweet; your two's relationship. At bedtime it's my job to get you ready for bed and then dad's job to tell you stories. You have your dad's imagination and his stories feed your mind. I can push you on the swing, but dad pushes you higher. I can jump with you on the tramp, but dad throws you in the air while jumping. I can get you cereal, but dad gives you more. Dad's your hero. You idolize him.

Brynlee, you are such a joy. To me. To your dad. And to your little brother.

We love you, all of you. And wouldn't change a thing about you.

Happy Birthday, my beautiful four year old.
Love you bigger than the sky,
Mom

Serving Easter Dinner

We hosted our family Easter Party at our house this year. Just like last year. And quite possibly the year before.

Jami called me an estimated eight-hundred times prior to the weekend gathering. "Are you sure it's okay if we use your house again, Kim? We always make you do it." "Is it going to annoy you if we come down again, Kim? No be serious, WILL IT?" "Are you SURE it's okay?"

And my answer was always the same. "Yes Jami, it's okay." "Nope, not one bit annoying." "You're not inviting yourself for cryING OUT LOUD. I just invited you." I promise Jami…it's no problem."

And really IT ISN'T!

I have a good house for entertaining. Enough beds/air mattresses/hide-a-beds/floor space to sleep the family. A big dining table for card games. A toy room that can get destroyed in 2 seconds flat, but can be completely ignored by guests {moms} in the living room.

And as a bonus, when the party's at our house Spence and I show up on time! And I'm not gonna lie…that doesn't happen often ever.

I like to throw a party. I mean, I'm no Martha Stewart! But I love the excuse to create a few centerpieces and use my oversized serving platters. My heart beats a little faster when I get to decide on a menu plan and tally up a guest count. LAME. I know. But it's the truth.

When I hosted our first "real" holiday party at our house I swore I would never do it again. It was Thanksgiving. I think there were twenty-five guests. I was only given a day or two notice and I did it ALL myself. Every bit of it. Spencer helped entertain guests while I peeled, cut and mashed the potatoes, made salads, set up the tables and chairs, made the stuffing, cleared the tables, washed the tablecloths, loaded and unloaded dish after dish, and then when the last guest finally left I collapsed on the couch in complete and total exhaustion. It wasn't enjoyable. Not in the least bit. Everyone else visited. Relaxed. Ate pie. Celebrated Thanksgiving. But, not me. I was hosting and there wasn't time to do anything else.

Since then I've learned a few things.
Thing one: People want to help, LET THEM.
Thing two: The messier the house gets, the more fun everyone's having.
Thing three: If they're willing to wash the dishes, let them do it their way. If they're willing to sweep the floor, then by all means move out of the way. If they're willing to clean up the toy room don't worry about getting the toys in their proper bin and totes, there just going to get taken out again anyways.

When Jami asked me for the umpteenth time if it was okay if we had the party at my house AGAIN. Without even thinking I told her it wasn't a big deal. And I was serious. It isn't.

And here's why:

Because Jami and Jaelynn are going to peel all the eggs for the deviled eggs while Alan washes the potatoes. Then Alan and Jaelynn are going to cut the potatoes while I work on a salad and Jami does a few dishes. Then Katie's going to set the table while Jake {her friend} brings down all the extra card tables from the loft. Then half of us are going to cut the fruit for the fruit kabobs while the other half stir the chicken/clean the toy room/hold the babies/take out the garbage/and make the French bread.

Because, I don't have to do all the work. That's why.

In fact, when my mom came in to see what she needed to do to get the last of the Easter dinner prepared I half-jokingly, half-dead serious-ly told her that my kitchen wasn't a twelve butt kitchen and she would have to help by allowing the twelfth butt to sit on the couch. Because the kitchen…it was hoppin'. And the kitchen space…it was limited.

I love my family! They get me. They're always willing to help. And they always do it with their outside voice.

Jami, you guys are always invited! As long as you promise you'll take out the trash and recycling before you leave. And bring a salad.

P.S. {in list format}

1. Hope your Easter was fabulous.

2. Did you have an Easter Egg Hunt slash Snowball fight too?

3. Dear Spring, Any day now. Okay. Kim

4. We missed you Brad and Jessica.

5. I haven't forgotten Brynlee's 4 year-old birthday letter. I'll be posting it soon. Or ya know, after I get it written.