The Incredible Edible Blog

Bacon

2012-01-26T20:16:00.000-08:00

It is an unseasonably warm night in January. The neighborhood snowmen are being assaulted by drops of heavy rain, and the valley lights are made brighter by the clarifying moisture.

A handful of pretty ladies have gathered in Danielle's kitchen for a night of food. It's our first monthly dinner night, and Danielle is our gracious host. Two days ago, she revealed tonight's secret ingredient... Bacon! Salty, crispy, nutritious bacon.

We each brought a dish containing the most delicious of all meats.

We came. We ate. We talked about boobs and illnesses and children and house demolition projects. And we were happy.

Things Boys (And Their Mamas) Think About

2012-01-24T15:39:00.000-08:00

Out of the blue, while we were driving to Kindermusik, the punk's voice sounded from the back seat: "If I peed on my face... that would be funny!"

-~-

After giving the punk more than sufficient time to complete his business, I walked into the bathroom to hurry up the flushing, pulling up of the pants, and washing portion of the task. Of course, I entered to find him standing on the counter with the toilet unflushed, his underwear and pants on the ground. I asked, "Calvin, why don't you just put your underwear back on after you go to the bathroom? Why do you just stand here naked until I come find you?"

"Because I want to."

-~-

We are remodeling two of our three bathrooms. So when the toilet - the only working toilet in the house - started ominously filling instead of draining after the punk filled it with half a roll of toilet paper, I started pleading, "No, no, no, no... Crap, crap, crap, crap!"

Then of course, the punk asked, "What's a crap?"

Oh crap.

[This photo was taken a few days ago when the pink bathroom was still intact.]

Quiet Time

2012-01-17T14:46:00.000-08:00

It seems that the punk is finished with his afternoon nap. He has decided that, as a mature boy with three long years behind him, he is above such things. For several days in a row, I have held my breath as I put him in bed and blow him a kiss, hoping that his eyelids will droop and his sweet head will stay glued to his blue, checkered pillow. But that blasted head has other ideas, and they don't include giving his mama a break.

You see, I am dedicated to the idea of "quiet time" when naps are a thing of the past. The problem is, I haven't yet figured out how to make this time work for us. It seems that as soon as I have tidied some things, brewed my hot cocoa, and sat my sore gluts under a blanket by the fire with some fiction in my hand (sigh), I hear the tell-tale squeak of the punk's bedroom door and little footsteps down the hall. When those footsteps lead to the bathroom, I'm a bit forgiving, although why his little digestive system insists on completing its job 20 minutes into "my" time, I'll never understand. At his call of, "Mom, I'm done!" I lend my assistance, then lead him back to bed. As soon as I put up my feet, he's out again, this time to give me something of his baby brother's that doesn't belong in his room. Every time he interrupts me, I feel that any previous quiet minutes are erased and I have to start over with cleansing breaths.

Today, I decided to lay some ground rules. I've been telling him that he needs to stay in his room until the clock says three-three-zero, but haven't given him incentive to do so. I looked into his big eyes and told him that if he comes out again, he'll have to sit in time-out for three minutes, then go back to his room. Two minutes later, footsteps. So without getting off my chair (I did a P90X core workout yesterday and everything hurts), I set my timer for 3 minutes and told him to sit down on the floor. He willingly plopped down in front of me, then pointed out that the floor is dirty and he should probably move to the seat in front of the fire. Little sneak. Throughout his entire time-out, he happily commented that his back was nice and warm. Not the punishment I had in mind. After his allotted time, I led him back to his room and this time, I had a better plan. If he comes out of his room again, he will have to lie down in bed.

Total silence for the next hour.

Until... "MOM! I'm stuck!"

I ran into his room to find him teetering on his bed, holding a puzzle upside down over his head, trying to prevent it from falling off the shelf. I grabbed it and helped him pick up the pieces. He smiled at me and said gratefully, "Thanks for saving me, Mom."

Total frustration and total bliss, all within 60 minutes. That's parenthood.

The Perils of Nordstrom

2012-01-16T20:19:00.000-08:00

I walked into Nordstom on a resolute quest for boots. I'm looking for something with a heel (at my man's request), but not too tall. Something I can wear with one kid on my hip, one kid holding my hand, and a bottomless Mary Poppins carpet bag on my shoulder. And something with a little flare, i.e. a buckle or two, but not too over the top. No fur, no fringe. Just a sexy but functional mid-heel boot. So basically something that doesn't exist.

But then I spotted them. Mid-heel. Two buckles. Interesting greyish color. Nice height. I must try them on and purchase them and snuggle with them under a blanket by a romantic fire. So I picked up the display boot to check the price on the bottom, but alas. The sticker was missing. I asked the closest salesperson if he knew the price of my new best friends. Without skipping a beat, he replied, "They're three-hundred and ninety-five dollars."

I snorted and almost said, "Pshyeah right!" Then I noticed that he wasn't smiling. "Oh." I said. "Really?"

"Yes," he said. "They're [some uber-fancy brand that I've never heard of]." (Did I imagine his almost pitying look of distain?)

I turned and almost crawled back to the table to replace the boot on its pedestal to await its true owner. Goodbye, fickle friend.

12of12: January (Thursday)

2012-01-12T22:30:00.000-08:00

Twelve of twelve in twenty-twelve!

January is a tough time to attempt taking great photos. Natural light... well... there just isn't any. Especially in my basement, which is where I spent a big chunk of my day. But looking back at my 2011 twelves, I love how the light (or lack thereof) changes with each month of the year.

1. The punk waltzes into our room before the sun does, and the basher starts hollering soon thereafter. We all spend some quality time under the covers in mom & dad's bed before getting up to face the day. The basher likes to stand on my pillows and observe the goings-on in the frozen desert. 2. I like to have colorful flowers inside during the winter to offset the stark view outside. 3. My half marathon training has begun. Today, two miles of speed work and a trophy for Whitest Legs in America. 4. The punk took Play Doh and dried cranberries to his play date at Charlie's house. 5. Janeen and I took the basher out for a sushi lunch, then snuggled under blankets and talked all afternoon. I love her. 6. The punk and I tried to build a snowman yesterday with the crunchy, old snow in the backyard. Since my arms were occupied with the basher, who would not let me put his snowpants-clad bum down, and I am not adept at packing snow with my two other limbs, we soon abandoned our attempt. After last year's never-ending snowfall, this dry winter seems a bit lackluster. 7. Thursday is my big piano day with four students, but only three were able to come today. Here, Tess (Amy Gretchen's daughter) completes her theory page. 8. My man fed the boys while I taught. Meat and potatoes, of course! 9. Wrestle time! 10. Do you remember sucking on the washcloth in the tub when you were a kid? I do. 11. Usually I put the basher to bed and my man takes care of the punk. Tonight we switched. 12. My late dinner, with buttered whole wheat toast and rich hot cocoa.

Lady Funk

2011-12-27T18:46:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, I finally admitted to myself that it's time to get my sorry butt onto the treadmill. In the past five weeks, I have run once. But with my half marathon training schedule staring me down, I gave into the fear. And it's a good thing too because it is truly upsetting how far one's endurance can fall in a relatively short amount of time. I had to walk for a quarter mile after each of my three measly miles.

Even though it took me too long and I probably looked like a fat chicken trying to run on a treadmill, I felt good after my first post-holiday workout. As I stretched in the family room and basked in the glow of freshly released endorphins, my man walked into the workout room and quickly came back out.

"Whew! That room stinks!"

"Well YEAH. I just exercised in it."

"I didn't know you smelled bad when you work out!"

"What?! You've smelled me after a run before."

"Not like that. It smells like a lady gym."

Perhaps I should be offended, but I just feel proud to have made it 8 1/2 years with a husband who thought I never stink.

'Twas...

2011-12-24T19:30:00.000-08:00

...the night before Christmas.

I hope it's magical for you and yours!

The Basher Gets Bonked

2011-12-23T08:10:00.000-08:00

"Well, I think his heart sounds okay." That's what his pediatrician told me at the basher's 9-month well-check yesterday after three failed attempts at listening to his chest; he just would not sit still long enough for her to hear anything, even with both of us holding him down. It was at this appointment that we learned that my busy boy's weight has decreased from the 70th percentile to the 5th. That's zero-five, as in my baby's knobby knees are wider than his thighs. His height hasn't suffered. He is not underfed. It's just that Mr. Squirmypants burns through every single calorie he ingests.

This morning I listened to him babble in his crib for a little while before I finally extricated myself from my warm covers. As I grabbed my glasses from my nightstand, I heard a loud bump and a big cry, so I quickened my pace to his room. I figured he had been standing in his crib and fallen over, bumping his head on the bars. It wouldn't be the first time. But when I opened his bedroom door, his cry wasn't coming from inside the crib. I looked down to find him sitting on the floor in between the crib and the rocking chair. He had pulled his wiry body up and over the crib wall! I should scratch the stocking stuffers and just get him a pull-up bar for Christmas. His older brother was in a crib for two years and in that time, he never even thought about escaping. Needless to say, 20 minutes later, my man had lowered the crib bed so that won't happen again. We've been watching him for signs of concussion this morning, but he's too busy climbing stairs and pulling toys out of all the drawers to bother slowing down for a head injury.

A Three Year-Old Boy

2011-12-16T20:06:00.000-08:00

A three year-old boy holds out his hand to feel the purple and pink padded bras as he walks by them at the department store and exclaims, "Oooh! What are these?"

A three year-old boy points at a man pushing his kids in a cart at the grocery store and says loudly, "He's a stranger!"

A three year-old boy coughs up a bunch of phlem and then informs his mama that he "didn't swallow a snail."

A three year-old boy gets out of bed four times to "fix" (rearrange) the lone present under the Christmas tree.

When his mama peeks her head into the bathroom to ask if he is done, a three year-old boy matter-of-factly says, "No. I made one poop. I'm going to make a loooooooot of poops."

The bathtub of a three year-old boy is accessorized by a man-eating crocodile.

12of12: December (Monday)

2011-12-12T21:40:00.000-08:00

On the 12th of each month, I take photos to document my day. As today happened to be the day of the punk's third birthday party, it was a fun one to record!

[Click on the block of photos to enlarge]

1. Can you say "morning person?" (I can't; it's not in my vocabulary.) 2. It is important that I allow the punk the space to dress himself, even if that means his pants and undershirt end up backwards. At least he got the underwear on right. 3. I loves me a hot shower. 4. Preparing for his pirate birthday party. 5. After the basher knocked over his full bowl of lunch, I cleaned carrots off the floor, wall, chair, heater vent, window, blinds, and yes, the ceiling. I think it was a clever ploy to get bananas and mixed berries instead. 6. Pirate cake pops! 7. The punk invited 7 little ragamuffins to his birthday party. 8. They played a beanbag toss game, colored pirate ships, sang songs, read a pirate book, ate cake pops and ice cream, and hunted treasure. I love that this present matched our pirate color scheme. 9. My parents and my man's parents were there to help us, thank goodness! 10. After the party, the punk and I took some cake pops to our friends who had brought a present for him when he was napping. 11. Christmas lights! 12. Torture by pajamas!

Bwudduhs

2011-12-07T21:31:00.000-08:00

It is a pleasure to be a witness to their blossoming relationship. The punk can make the basher laugh just by looking at him. He knows all of his brother's tickle spots. He sings to him when the basher is crying. He shares bites of food with him and stands ready to catch him if he falls out of the dishwasher. (Did I really just write that?)

They wrestle on the ground together, and it's not only the punk throwing down. The basher is getting quick! He'll crawl all over his big brother and slobber him into submission. It is my hope for them that they will always be close. As the punk says, "He is my bwudduh. He needs me!" It really is remarkable to watch their relationship develop, independent of me. I love it.

Gratitude Day 24: Thanksgiving Day

2011-11-24T20:18:00.000-08:00

Today I am grateful for food, and lots of it! No really. We are so fortunate to have, not only enough to keep us alive, but much, much more than that. We are able to enjoy and taste and choose and cook our own cuisine. I have never in my life gone hungry. Today we enjoyed a wonderful holiday with my man's family. It was warm and lovely and tasty and happy and special. Everything that Thanksgiving Day should be.

Gratitude Day 23

2011-11-23T21:11:00.000-08:00

I am so grateful for good friends, old and new. Tonight we got together with some neighborhood buddies for takeout dinner and a potato peeling party since all three of us have been assigned mashed potatoes for tomorrow's Thanksgiving feast. The punk joined all the older kids (his "best friends") for a dance party in the basement. When there are 5 girls and 2 boys (plus the basher), wrestling and sword fights take a back seat to dance parties. He didn't mind one bit.

Gratitude Day 22

2011-11-22T20:09:00.000-08:00

My body used to weigh a bit less. It could stand to be more firm, less flabby. Some might say it could use a tan. But my body created two humans. It has run long distances. It is strong and healthy. It can see, hear, taste, smell, and feel. And it is perfect because it is mine.

I am grateful for my body.

Gratitude Day 21

2011-11-21T21:07:00.001-08:00

I am thankful that my man works hard to support our family so I can be a stay at home mom to my boys. It's not an easy job, but it's the one I've always wanted. And seriously, could I ask for two more adorable bosses?

Gratitude Day 20

2011-11-20T20:01:00.000-08:00

I am thankful to be surrounded by extended family. Tonight we had dinner at my parents' house, where we were joined by my brother, my cousin on my dad's side, and my grandma and great-grandma on my mom's side.

I laughed around the table with my dad, my man, and my cousin, who told animated stories about times when they have been scared, as kids, and as adults. A grown man sharing an anecdote about a time when he has left his (slow, chubby) buddy in the dust to be eaten by attack dogs in a dark cemetery? Or when he nearly clocked a tiny old lady in the face because she was standing there in the dark hallway when the elevator door opened and he is afraid of little things? Hilarious.

I also talked with my great-grandma (97 years old) about her family. She has always dressed very well, no matter what her plans or where she is going. I learned today that this is because, as a child, she was teased by her teacher(!) for wearing hand-me-downs from her mother. Her daughter, my Grandma Valeen, also shared a story about her uncle Eugene, who is Great-Grandma Bell's brother. Valeen and her brother Larry walked to the grocery store with their uncle Eugene. On the way there, he asked each of them which candy bar they liked. At the store, he confirmed their favorites and bought each of those, plus his favorite. Then on the way home, he ate all three candy bars! In front of them! What a meanie.

[the basher and his great-great-grandma]

Gratitude Day 19

2011-11-19T08:06:00.001-08:00

I am grateful for Saturday morning cuddle sessions, although a more accurate description would be Operation Stay In Bed For As Long As The Boys Will Sit Still. The little guys are always so happy to see each other in the morning. Then the punk tries to concentrate on his cartoons while the basher climbs all over him, freely sharing intermittent "kisses," open-mouthed with tongue.

Gratitude Day 18

2011-11-18T20:04:00.000-08:00

I am grateful that my man still takes me on dates, and that after 8 years, we still enjoy talking together (although we have, of course, learned which topics to avoid). Thanks for a lovely dinner, my man!

Gratitude Day 17

2011-11-17T15:16:00.001-08:00

I am grateful that I have the opportunity to teach music lessons. When I was a young music student, adults often told me that I was lucky to know how to play the piano and violin so I could teach when I got older, and I always resented them for it. How dare they assume that I would want to teach?! I went through the same thing with my Bachelor's degree in Mathematics. "Oh, you're a math major? Are you going to teach?" NO! I hoarded my own knowledge and avoided teaching for many years, but then finally, one day, I gave in and started tutoring math... and loved it! I've had several math students since then and now I call myself a music teacher too. I'm loving it. I guess it was inevitable. I'm grateful to have a husband who supports this hobby of mine.

Gratitude Day 16

2011-11-16T15:15:00.000-08:00

I am thankful for days (like today) when we have no plans whatsoever.

Gratitude Day 15

2011-11-15T21:09:00.000-08:00

I've already mentioned how much I love my mother-in-law. Her partner in crime, my father-in-law, ain't so bad either. (In fact, he is completely wonderful too.) But today I am thankful for the family into which I was born. The Johnsons.

This weekend, my parents came over to feed, entertain, bathe, and tuck in my little guys while my man and I went out. When I informed the punk who was going to keep him company that night, he clapped his hands and exclaimed, "Oooh hoo hoo! I'm so happy!" He often asks about each of my siblings - how they are, and more importantly, when they are coming over to play with him. I feel closer now to each of my brothers and my sister than ever before, and I think this increased affection has come with parenthood. Seeing them as an aunt and uncles has made me love and appreciate them even more than before. As the oldest of 5, I am having a great time seeing my younger siblings as my own peers, and more importantly, my friends.

I am so happy that my boys have four interested, involved, loving, entertaining, generous grandparents who all live within 15 minutes of us, and many aunts and uncles (including my man's brothers and their women) who love them. They also have two great-grandpas, four great-grandmas, and a great-great-grandma. Lucky little punks!

Gratitude Day 14

2011-11-14T12:44:00.000-08:00

I am grateful to live in a place where there are four seasons. We spent our lunch hour at the park. Beautiful!

Gratitude Day 13

2011-11-13T12:40:00.000-08:00

I am thankful for the power to choose. To set my own goals. And for a new week to start again.

12of12: November (Saturday)

2011-11-13T07:54:00.000-08:00

Today I am thankful for my camera. Every 12th day of the month, I take photos to document my day. I like it when the 12th falls on a Saturday because that means my man is most likely in town.

1. Grapefruit for breakfast. Yum! 2. The boys "helped" their dad rake the leaves. 3. Oops! 4. More leaves. 5. Graham cracker snack 6. We enjoyed lots of apples from our tree this year. Apple crisp, apple pie. I even canned applesauce! 7. I took these babies on their maiden voyage. The chilly wind muted my music and tossed leaves in my mouth, but it was nice to get out on the road. 8. Snow. 9. He was content to lie in bed after his nap and watch the heavy snowflakes fall outside his bedroom window. 10. Their dad was out of town all week, so they are enjoying all the wrestle time they can get. 11. Grandma Caryn & Papa Andy brought a corn dog and french fries for the punk so my man and I could go on a date. Everyone is happy! 12. Pei Wei and a movie. (In Time. It was interesting at first, but the plot and writing became weak.) My man loves posing for pictures. Loves it!

Gratitude Day 11

2011-11-11T08:11:00.001-08:00

I am grateful to be an American. We enjoy freedoms that so many people of the world do not. We are generally safe, fed, clothed, sheltered, educated, healthy, and able to work to take care of ourselves and our families.

Thank you, veterans, for serving to protect those special rights. Yes, Michael. Especially you.

My marine brother Michael, who served two tours during the Iraq War. Also pictured: Michael and Michael. He's an art student.

Gratitude Day 10

2011-11-10T21:44:00.000-08:00

While dining out with some friends at lunchtime, we suddenly noticed some commotion around a lady at the next table. I couldn't see her face, but she was making scary strangled sounds, her hands were shaking, and a man in scrubs from another table stood behind her, ready to administer the Heimlich maneuver. A waitress asked if she needed to call 911, but when asked if she was choking, the woman shook her head. She then started gasping for breath. It turns out that she had aspirated some water. As the small crowd dissipated, I realized that I was lightheaded. I don't think I had taken a breath since the commotion started. I had been terrified that I was going to witness an accidental death on a normal Thursday afternoon and that someone was going to lose a wife, mother, sister, friend.

Later, while I was enjoying the peaceful time of night after the boys are in bed, red lights flashed in the darkness outside my window. A fire truck and an ambulance were driving down my street. Again, I felt panic. I went outside to see the lights stop at a house at the end of my street. I don't know whose house was the destination for these ominous vehicles. But I can imagine the occasion was, if not tragic, then at least traumatizing.

I guess my gratitude today comes at the expense of strangers. I am so thankful that all of my immediate family members are safe and healthy. I know this will not always be the case, so today I am thankful for this temporary peace of mind.

Gratitude Day 9

2011-11-09T20:46:00.000-08:00

With my man out of town, I've been missing him this week, and especially today. I have to admit that whenever he travels, I do enjoy having sole control of the remote, and being able to count arugula salad with avocado and parmesan, crescent rolls, and hot chocolate as dinner. (Entrees are overrated.) But in his absence, I am always reminded how much he helps me and how much his little guys need him. He is the greatest daddy I know. He pays attention to the boys, giving them his love and guidance and keeping them in line. He steps in with two extra hands whenever mine are inadequate. When he is around, the boys get more wrestle time, more SportsCenter, and more one-on-one attention from either parent. So today, without him, I am grateful for the man in my life.

Now come home and rub my feet! (Yeah. Like that will ever happen.)

Gratitude Day 8

2011-11-08T20:31:00.000-08:00

A couple weeks ago I found a yoga studio that I love. I love the class, I love the teacher, I love that I can get there in 5 minutes, especially when I pull up and realize I've forgotten my yoga mat and have to turn around. I love challenging my body. I love taking 90 minutes to refresh, restore, regroup. I love that, after a quick tip from my instructor on my alignment, my knees feel stronger and more stable as I look ahead to the miles I plan to run in the next few months. Today I am grateful for yoga.

Namaste.

Gratitude Day 7

2011-11-07T20:18:00.000-08:00

Whenever my man is out of town, his mom calls me at the beginning of the week to ask how she can help me. Today she took the punk for 7 hours (!) so I could have some time alone with the basher. She also brought me a huge canister of Starbucks hot chocolate mix, which I am now enjoying in the mug she brought me from Hilton Head a few weeks ago. (I have accumulated a collection of mugs, mostly from Starbucks' around the country, and I always choose my mug according to my mood. For instance, when I'm missing Little Sis, I drink from the Serendipity III mug she brought me from New York. When I wish I could get away, I choose the mug I bought on my last girl weekend in Las Vegas.)

The punk "helped" Grandma Lynn organize her attic and played keep-away with the dog:

I worked up a sweat on my cleaning spree, played on the floor with a smiley baby, and made dinner (deep dish chicken cordon bleu, butternut squash, and garden salad), which we later enjoyed together: Grandma, Papa, the punk, and me. Even the basher got in on some of the squash action.

Today (and everyday) I am grateful for my mother-in-law.

Gratitude Day 6

2011-11-06T15:18:00.000-08:00

I am grateful for the Spirit I feel when I attend church each Sunday. More than the lessons and discussions and hymns and talks, it's the Spirit of comfort and truth I feel that keeps me going back.

Gratitude Day 5

2011-11-05T21:31:00.000-07:00

On the first snow day of the season, I am so thankful to have a warm house with a cozy bed, fuzzy socks, flannel pajamas, and a steaming mug of hot chocolate in my hands. Days like this make me think of the people of the world who do not have permanent shelter, and who can not tuck their children into bed under a heavy comforter. I am so very grateful to be one of the fortunate ones.

Gratitude Day 4

2011-11-04T19:58:00.001-07:00

Most days, the basher takes two 45-minute naps. For weeks, this drove me nuts because I need more time to accomplish the things I can only do when he is napping: clean, shower, clean, read a book to the punk, clean, sit my tired derriere on a couch... But I have begrudgingly come to terms with his overwhelming urge to move and see and do, and I just know that I have to choose one task to accomplish during his short snooze. Usually that's a shower in the morning and a short rest in the afternoon. Do you see cleaning at the top of my list? Unfortunately for the other grown-up that lives in this house, no. You do not. (However, I guess my man is lucky that showering made the cut.)

Today I am grateful that the basher took two long naps today to total 5 hours! FIVE! Do you know how much time that is? It's a shower, a clean kitchen (including the stove, which has been re-burning the beans that overflowed when I made chili on Halloween), three clean bathrooms, several books with the punk, an episode of Raising Hope, and a deep breath. Maybe even two.

Yes. I am grateful indeed. Thanks Basher Boy!

P.S. I took a picture of a sleeping punk to commemorate my thankfulness because he can sleep through anything. The basher was cursed with his daddy's light sleeping habits, and pops his head up as soon as he hears the doorknob turning. He brings himself to a standing position even before he can focus his eyes.

Gratitude Day 3

2011-11-03T20:39:00.000-07:00

I am grateful that my punk has adorable friends with generous, supportive parents and grandparents. The area in which we live is not overflowing with children like some other areas of the city. But the kids that do live here are so sweet, so fun. I can see the punk walking to school with these friends, arms linked, singing and skipping... Wait, am I living in a musical?

Gratitude Day 2

2011-11-02T16:50:00.000-07:00

I am grateful for Discovery Gateway. I borrowed my friend's pass to see if I could handle the two boys by myself, and if the timing will work with nap schedules. They had a blast and we had just enough time to play, play, play, and get back for naps. The boys were so busy exploring, playing, splashing, reading, and sucking on germ-infested plastic toys that they wouldn't have even known if I had left to get a pedicure. We will buy our own pass next time. It will be the perfect distraction during the cold, wet days ahead.

Gratitude Day 1

2011-11-01T20:05:00.000-07:00

This month, I am going to attempt to be more aware of the things for which I am grateful.

Today I am grateful for yesterday's gorgeous fall weather. We enjoyed the most beautiful, sunny, warm holiday. Today came the snow. I'm just glad it waited until the trick or treaters' plastic pumpkins were full.

Calvin and Hobbes

2011-10-31T22:00:00.000-07:00

This may have been my favorite Halloween ever!

Improv Thriller dance party; the punk has some serious moves!
Family lunch at Five Guys, where the punk loudly wished the adjacent table full of missionaries a "Happy Halloween, missionaries!" and elicited an "Aaawwwww!" from the sisters, who then shook his hand.
Soaking in the surprisingly warm sunshine before naps. Last day in the '60s?
Trick or Treating with the punk's two little buddies. The punk loves his friends, and could the weather have been any nicer?!
Chili, cornbread, pumpkin chocolate chip bread, and chocolate cake with family.

Rugrats

2011-10-24T14:43:00.000-07:00

The punk had recently done his business at the grocery store, in the "unisex" bathroom where I could fit myself and the basher, who was strapped into the obnoxious spaceship grocery cart full of purchased groceries. So I knew that after we read our nap time story, he would just be able to lie down and go to sleep. I left the punk lying cozily in his bed and fed the basher his afternoon meal of mixed grain and squash. Then we retired to the rocking chair for a final thirst quencher and a descent into dreamland. It all sounds so magical, doesn't it?

Well, as the basher was finally dozing and I was about to detach him and place him in his crib, the punk opened the door and smiled, as if to say, "I'm cute. Therefore, I am exempt from punishment." In a whisper, I instructed him to go back to bed, to which he loudly replied, "WHAT?" Luckily, the basher was tired enough that he only fluttered his eyelids, but did not wake up. After I made silent strangling signs, the punk understood. Just kidding. But he did go back to his room. When I tiptoed out of the dozing basher's room, the punk had come out again and was placing his stool by the toilet so he could get to it. He demanded that I let him do everything himself, which takes forever, but okay. It made him happy to accomplish something so magnificent. With his business done, I again led him back to bed.

Finally, a deep breath. I put the groceries away and picked up a few things. I even managed to resist the java chip ice cream I just bought; all I wanted was a minute on the couch and some silence.

Right when I sat down, I heard a door shut loudly upstairs, a shrill, tired cry from the basher, and the punk's footsteps down the hall. Awesome. The basher had slept for 30 minutes and the punk, not at all. Only 3 more days until my man returns home. No, that's too long. Only 5 more hours until bedtime? No, that doesn't work for me either. Only 2 1/2 more hours until my brother comes over to wrestle with my boys and make yummy noises as he eats dinner with us? Yes, I can deal with 2 1/2 hours.

After all, they have their cute moments too:

Let's Hear It For The Girls

2011-10-19T20:16:00.000-07:00

Friendship. It's on my mind. Tonight I find myself incredibly grateful for my girlfriends. There was a time in my life when I didn't feel like I needed my girls as much. Namely, during the dating and newlywed phases. All I needed, all I wanted, was my man. I didn't care about chatting with friends I had known all my life when a brand new man was in my arms and on my lips.

But I am now 8 (lovely) years into my (perfect) marriage. (Ha!) The honeymoon is over (just barely) and I have rediscovered how much we women need each other. For support, for inspiration, for ideas. For running, for food, for conversations about boobs. For laughing, for crying (sometimes in the same breath).

I am fortunate to have many different girlfriends who have been in my life for different amounts of time, but who are all important to me. Last week I brought post-surgery dinner to a friend I've had since before Kindergarten. We have always been chums, but there have been times in our lives that have brought us closer than other times. As children, we jumped on the trampoline and had picnics in the front yard and played barbies. Now we talk about kids and husbands and our changed bodies. The kind of longevity that our relationship has is remarkable. I love her and always will.

Yesterday a newer friend delivered some chocolate cake to my house while I was away at a yoga class. (I am kind of, but not really, embarrassed to say that I ate all three pieces before going to bed.) I have known her for only the two years I've lived in her neighborhood, but her presence in my life has taught me so much about friendship and motherhood, photography and running, loving oneself and loving others.

Tonight I had dinner with some friends I've known for 14 years. At the end of the night, I said goodnight to a fellow redhead and was reminded that we will always be there for each other when we both need it. A couple years ago, we were going through similar difficulties with our families. Through our pain, we found comfort in our friendship and even now, we can rely on the honesty, the healing, and the faith that we found together during that time.

Because of my friends, I am stronger, more creative, more giving, more inspired, and more full of chocolate cake than I would have ever been alone.

Tired

2011-10-16T19:13:00.000-07:00

I'm tired. I'm tired because I have fallen out of a solid workout schedule. (I'm also tired because the punk thinks getting up at 5:30 am is the right thing to do.) I'm tired so I don't work out. I don't work out, so I'm tired. We've all been there, right? Even though I hadn't run (or exercised at all) in 2 weeks, I joined my friend Brittany in running the Murray Moonlight Run (whose worthy cause is to fight online bullying).

It was a perfect night for a race. Temps in the mid '60s, a nearly full moon... Perfect! I really do love running at night. We all wore glow sticks and glow in the dark body paint. I had jammed two glow sticks in my shoes, which was uncomfortable, but necessary. Necessary because it was awesome. Brit sprinted off the starting line and never looked back, so I ran alone. Just the way I like it most of the time. We both accomplished new PRs (personal records). Brit beat my time by nearly 4 minutes, but we were both happy. And there was pumpkin pie at the finish line!

I got to bed around 11:00, then got up with the basher at midnight. The punk waltzed into my room at 5:30 this morning. I'm tired.

12of12: October (Wednesday)

2011-10-12T22:03:00.000-07:00

1. The basher now happily crawls all over the house. The punk thought it would be fun to join him on the floor during breakfast. 2. My great friend Brittany offered to take the punk during the basher's morning nap so I could have a break, as my man has been traveling quite a bit. However, the basher has been taking shortened naps, presumably because he wants to practice his new crawling and standing skills. I was counting on more time to clean, but decided to make the most of his wakefulness and enjoy some one-on-one time with my baby. 3. My man called with some good news: he will be home from his current business trip one day early! (This photo was taken long before I met the guy. Yowza!) 4. I went to retrieve my punk and join Brit and her girlies for a delicious lunch of roasted red pepper soup and grilled cheese. This is my lovely little friend D.

5. The kiddos painted pumpkins from their great-grandpa's garden. 6. This photo is misleading. It shows what I was going to do after I cleaned and before the boys awoke from their afternoon naps. Again, the basher had different plans. No break for me. 7. Although the leaves have turned on the mountain, our yard is still holding on to summer. 8. I am loving my new role as piano teacher. I even paid my babysitter to stay 30 minutes longer so I could practice, uninterrupted.

9. The boys and I went on a short walk in Millcreek Canyon. It turned out to be colder than I had anticipated and the punk wanted to go back to the warm car. 10. But the colors were so beautiful! 11. This gorgeous sunset welcomed us back into the valley. The orange clouds swept the entire sky. 12. My friend and neighbor does a weekly dinner swap with me. I cook for both our families on Mondays. Tonight was her turn to cook: beef and broccoli, garden salad, & pear and raspberry tart. I enjoyed my dinner while watching Modern Family after I put the boys to bed.

Astrological Observations

2011-10-10T07:56:00.000-07:00

While on an evening walk, just the two of us, the punk observed, "The moon doesn't have glue. It just sticks [to the sky] by itself."

Harvest

2011-09-26T20:35:00.000-07:00

The basher helped me pick some apples in the backyard this afternoon to use for dinner.

I used one apple in a new recipe that was TO DIE FOR! Butternut squash soup. This luscious concoction is officially my new favorite soup. Wowzers! So delicious! The butternut squash came from my parents' garden, as did the tomatoes I used for my side dish.

After dinner, we picked more apples.

Then we ate apple crisp with vanilla bean ice cream. It's been an apple-licious day!

For the soup recipe, visit me here. Seriously, do it. Yum.

I Am Woman

2011-09-24T20:26:00.000-07:00

I had about 20 kills today. That's what my friend and former Ragnar teammate calls it when you pass a fellow runner during a race. But by comparing my speed to the speed of my fellow chicks on the road, I am comparing apples to... apples with two bites taken out of them. Let me 'splain. No. There is too much. Let me sum up. (Name that movie.) I completed my first triathalon this morning. (TriathaMom) But I'm cheating a bit when I say that. My teammates and I completed our first tri. Together. We did it as a relay! Heidi swam 300 meters. Susan biked 12 miles. And I ran the 5K. So as I passed those 20 women during the run, my pride was tempered because I knew that most of them had already completed the two other legs of the race that my teammates had done for me.

As I passed these fellow contestants, I cheered words of encouragement. "You're awesome!" "Looking great!" "Way to go!" Racing events bring out the cheerleader in me because I have been brought to tears when strangers have cheered for me during a race. I'm just paying it forward.

Later today, I joined my three string quartet members at the beautiful Memory Grove to play a wedding. It was a gorgeous (albeit hot and sunny) afternoon. We enjoyed playing the ceremony, then chatted about newborn babies while we were packing up. My violist and cellist very recently gave birth to sweet baby girls.

On my way home, I flipped on the General Relief Society Broadcast to hear an all-woman choir sing. Tears filled my eyes as the power of women hit me. I had spent all day surrounded by women. The triathalon, my quartet... We are all women trying to feel good and do good, for our families, for our clients, for ourselves.

I actually thought about my boys at home and found myself wishing for a moment that I had a daughter who I could teach how to be a strong, confident, smart, capable woman. I always knew, for instance, that girls could do math because my (female) math teacher taught me so. But then I realized that I do have a great opportunity to teach my boys about us female types. I can show them that their mama is strong. She is brave. She is capable.

At least, I can tri.

Heh heh.

Pain Rustique

2011-09-15T10:21:00.000-07:00

We are going on a family vacation tomorrow. I am stockpiling some meals to take with us so we don't have to go out too much. Don't get me wrong. I love going out to eat! But the basher and the punk have not yet come to appreciate restaurants as much as their mama. So I'm packing lasagna, chicken tacos, cinnamon rolls, brownies, and... wait for it... homemade bread. Although it does take some preparation and some time, it is super easy, and only requires four ingredients, including water! Mmmmm, my house smells so good right now. These little babies just came out of the oven. I don't think I can wait much longer to dig in with some butter.

Jeffery Hamelman's Pain Rustique

For the Poolish:

1 lb. bread flour (3 5/8 cups)

1 lb. water (2 cups)

1/8 tsp. instant yeast

For the final dough:

1 lb. bread flour

6.1 oz. water (3/4 cup)

poolish (all of above - 2 lbs.)

1 Tbs. salt

1 1/2 tsp. instant yeast

To make the Poolish: Mix the yeast in the water, add the flour and mix until smooth. Cover the bowl with plastic and let stand for 12 to 16 hours at room temperature (about 70° F.)

After the room temperature fermenting, add the Final Dough ingredients of flour, water to the Poolish in a mixing bowl. Do not add the salt or yeast. In a mixer, mix on first speed just until the ingredients come together in a shaggy mass. Cover the mixing bowl with a sheet of plastic and let this rough dough rest for 20 to 30 minutes.

At the end of the rest period, sprinkle the salt and yeast over the dough and turn the mixer to second speed. Mix until the dough is fairly well developed, 1-1⁄2 to 2 minutes (or adjust the mixing time accordingly for hand kneading). The dough should be supple and moderately loose. Desired dough temperature is 76° F. Place dough in an oiled bowl and let rise for 70 minutes total, with folds to the dough at the 25 and 50 minute mark of the 70 minute rise.

After 70 minutes, divide the dough in half and form in to loaves and place on a flour dusted peel (or on to flour dusted parchment paper on a baking sheet). Let the loaves proof for 20 to 25 minutes at room temperature.Preheat the oven (and baking stone, if using) to 460° F.

When ready to bake, slash each loaf down the center. Spritz the side of the oven (avoid light bulb area) to generate some steam. Load the bread in the oven and spritz again. Bake at 460° F. for about 35 minutes.

12of12: September (Monday)

2011-09-12T21:41:00.000-07:00

Click on the block of photos to enlarge.

1. There are days when I run because I should, and days when I actually want to. Today was one of the latter. 2. Monday = grocery shopping. Yes, the punk has a black eye. He also has a scraped shin and a bandaid on his finger. All from separate incidents. 3. The punk has been so sweet to his "bwudduh" lately. When the basher starts to squeal, he runs to get him a new toy. When the baby spits up, he asks me for a burp cloth and insists on doing the clean-up himself. 4. Just this week, I increased my number of music students from 2 to 5! (4 piano, 1 violin) Time to buy some new material. 5. Wendy's drive-thru for lunch. 6. A chicken nuggets picnic.7. The basher has been sucking his thumb much more lately. He puts his arms around my neck, grabs my hair with both hands, and with a strand in his fist, sucks his thumb in my ear. I love it. 8. The boys and I played outside for a while before nap time. 9. Making dinner. 10.Grilled chicken salad with balsamic vinaigrette, tomato soup made with fresh tomatoes from my parents' garden, and warm banana bread. 11.The basher loves "chasing" his big brother. (Check out my man's arms. Mmmm mmm.) 12. He also enjoys panda during bath time.

Ten Years

2011-09-11T08:59:00.000-07:00

When I took these pictures during spring break in March 2001, the towers had six months left to stand. My friends and I walked mere blocks from Mariani's NYU dorm to visit the World Trade Center.

This morning, I was surprised at the emotion that overtook me as I thought back to the events of September 11, 2001. It was a typical morning for me. I was getting ready for school when my brother Jacob came in to tell me that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center. Weird! What a random accident! Then the second plane hit and we knew it was no accident. Our world changed.

Today I was holding the basher and watching the special news broadcast. During the moment of silence, a bell tolled to commemorate the fall of the second tower. I cried. My heart was so heavy for the lives lost, the hatred behind it, and the families who still miss their loved ones. I also remembered how our nation had stood together. Proud. Defiant. One. And that I had never felt more patriotic than during the weeks following the attacks.

The punk started dancing when Paul Simon played Sounds of Silence. He was just an innocent child, enjoying the music and eating his toast. He asked us (the baby and me) to join him. So we did. It struck me that my boys weren't around when all of this happened 10 years ago. I was just a baby in college myself (look at my sweet, chubby cheeks)! I will have to be the one to tell them what happened on that day.

But not yet. I will let them enjoy their music and toast for a little while longer.

Hide and Seek

2011-09-10T20:30:00.001-07:00

Can you find him? Thank goodness for the giggles.

Otherwise, he'd be lost forever.

Today I'm Grateful For...

2011-09-08T18:18:00.000-07:00

a man who likes to play with his boys

opportunities that encourage me to leap

years of music lessons that have turned into fun & income

boys that adore each other

surprise treats from friends

skin that heals itself

Tylenol

shrieks and giggles

play dates

concurrent naps

weekly dinner swap

What are you grateful for?

An Autumn Fall

2011-09-06T13:50:00.001-07:00

Today is my man's first day at his new job, which means working from home, which means control over his own schedule and no commute, which means an extra hour of freedom in the morning, which means I get to run! By myself! Outside! At a reasonable hour! When I was feeding the basher in bed (best!) I heard the punk proclaiming his joy at seeing his dad in the morning with song:

"I'm so glad when Daddy comes home, glad as I can be!

I clap my hands and shout for joy and climb upon his knee.

Put my arms around his neck. Hug him tight like this.

Pat his cheeks and give him what? A great big kiss! Mmmwah!"

I knew it was going to be a good day.

As I ran north on Wasatch Blvd., I was reminded of the existence of rush hour. See, as a stay at home mom, I forget about these things sometimes. I ran on the side of the newly paved (read: bumpy and rough) asphalt road and hoped the drivers could follow the small reflectors that currently act as lane dividers. I was feeling good, running at a nice pace on my way back home.

Suddenly, a road troll appeared and grabbed my ankle as I sped by. Okay, okay... I tripped. I just plain tripped over nothing. My big (read: oversized, giant) toe caught on the rough road and in slow motion, I went down with arms outstretched. I landed hard on my knees and hands. My first thought was, "Ooooooowwwww!" My second thought was, "I'm on my hands and knees on the side of a busy road during rush hour." So I rolled myself over and up onto the curb, sat there for a few seconds to get my bearings and assess my injuries, then stood up and ran home.

The end.

P.S. As I huffed and puffed up the final steep hill, the song Love Today by Mika came on my iPod. I decided then that it would still be a good day. And it is.

P.P.S. Ouch.

Holiday Hike

2011-09-05T10:08:00.001-07:00

I love the fall season. I really do! I'm just not ready for it yet. Perhaps it's because this year's winter was so unbearably long. I just feel like summer passed by much too quickly; I'm loathe to see it go. Actually, now that I think about it, it's not fall that I'm dreading; it's the season that follows it that I could do without. Fall, with its beautiful colors and crisp jacket weather, is never long enough. Winter tends to rear its ugly, grey, cold, dark head much too soon and stay long past its welcome. So today, we joined my parents for a lovely early-fall hike up Neff's Canyon to enjoy the outdoors while they are still enjoyable.

A Rose By Any Other Name

2011-08-31T09:29:00.001-07:00

The punk has recently developed a fascination with names. Full names. His own, and those of his loved ones. He calls his daddy Timothy Michael Bell. His brother is Asher Junah Bell (or sometimes "Asher Basher"). When his dad teases him and says, "What you talking 'bout, Willis?", the punk says, "I'm not 'talking 'bout Willis!' I'm Calvin Timothy Bell!" He thinks his Uncle Davey's name is Davey Arthur Johnson Bell because everyone else's last name is Bell. But somehow, I have managed to keep my own name a bit of a mystery to him. Either he can't pronounce it, or, like an elementary school teacher who has no other identity to her students, I have no first name.

He calls me "Mama Johnson Bell."

Happy/Sad

2011-08-30T12:28:00.000-07:00

This is the basher. He sleeps with elevated bum.

Waking up is hard to do.

But after a little companionship...

... and a yummy lunch...

...things are looking up.

Miso Hot

2011-08-27T14:15:00.000-07:00

I joined my great-grandma, grandma, their roommate, my mom, aunt, and two cousins (whew!) for sushi and a movie. As our sushi rolls were brought to the table and we all dug in with our chopsticks, my 97 year-old great-grandma (whose eyesight is failing her, but whose spunk is still very sharp) asked to no one in particular,

"Is someone down there eating raw fish? Yuck!"

Oh Grandma. (She ordered the egg fu yung.)

Me and my grandma and great-grandma. 2009.

Teddy Bear Picnic

2011-08-26T11:04:00.000-07:00

Behold, a lively song to jump-start your weekend!

[If you go down in the woods today, you're in for a big surprise.]

If you go down in the woods today, you'd better go in disguise.

For every bear that ever there was will gather there for certain because

Today's the day the teddy bears have their picnic.

Picnic time for teddy bears! The little teddy bears are having a lovely time today.

Watch them, catch them unawares and see them picnic on their holiday.

See them gaily gad about. They love to play and shout. They never have any cares.

At six o'clock their mommies and daddies will take them home to bed

Because they're tired little teddy bears.

B&A: Bedrooms

2011-08-25T13:10:00.000-07:00

When we bought our house two years ago, we loved the location, the floor plan, and the potential of the home. But we knew there was much room for improvement. We have been trying to update the look and feel of the home, one room at a time. The bedroom remodel began last October. We have finally put the finishing touches on our master bedroom (mostly) so I thought I'd share my before and after photos of this area of the house.

The punk's room BEFORE

The punk's room AFTER

The hallway BEFORE

The hallway AFTER

The master bedroom BEFORE

The master bedroom AFTER

2nd Time's The Charm

2011-08-23T21:02:00.000-07:00

During last year's Ragnar Relay, I ran 5.5 miles around Rockport Reservoir minutes after puking my guts out. (See my blog post here.) Today, I had a much more enjoyable time at the reservoir. We joined my man's parents, brother, and his girlfriend for an end of summer water party. We packed yummy sandwiches, fresh fruit and veggies, and brownies. The basher wanted some of that action, but was not allowed to indulge in the chocolaty goodness because, as the punk says, "He doesn't have any teef!"

There are very few times in my life these days that I don't acutely feel the weight of motherhood pressing down on me (literally and figuratively. The boys are getting heavy). Even when we are having fun as a family, my primary role is to bring all the right things, make sure the little ones eat and wear sunscreen, and manage their safety and enjoyment. So when my man and I left the boys on the beach with their grandparents and took the Jet Skis out on the lake, I was surprised at the euphoria I felt when I squeezed that throttle. Pure bliss! Wind in my braids, sun on my face, cool water spraying my legs, and two free hands to steer the Jet Ski? Ahhhhh...

Q is for Quilt

2011-08-22T20:35:00.001-07:00

My sweet little sister is moving to Virginia for college this week. I saw her for the last time tonight. There were tears. But enough about that. This is a happy post about the gift I made for her. Several weeks ago, I asked each member of my immediate family to donate 2 shirts to the cause. I ruthlessly slashed through them in order to make 20 cloth squares, 18 in. x 18 in. I sewed them together to make one side of the quilt and attached a black and white gingham print on the other side. It's not the most stylish quilt and it's not going to win any awards for precision. But it's something in her dorm room that will be a little piece of all of us at home.

Here come the tears again. I'm going to miss that girl.

12of12: August (Friday)

2011-08-15T14:18:00.000-07:00

Today's 12 is brought to you by my man's parents' new place in St. George! The 4 of us went down for the weekend and had a lovely (very hot) time.

[Click on the block of photos to enlarge.]

1. The view from my morning run. 2. Jessie and Buzz Lightyear. The punk is running "superfast!" in the background. 3. My man says that someday, he'll teach the punk how to scream like a man. 4. Animal style! 5. "Reading" the pool rules to his bro. It's all about safety, man! 6. Hot. 7. Blastoff! 8. Big smile. Lots of drool. 9. Snack time. 10. The backyard. 11. The boys are finally in bed. 12. Ahhhhh...

B&A Backyard

2011-08-10T18:22:00.001-07:00

This is what our backyard looked like in June. Cinderblock tiers and steps and a dirt/weed garden.

Then we paid a guy to do manly things.

Ta da! Rocks. A dirt ramp. A level dirt pad.

Then my man laid sod on the ramp, planted a few things in the rocks (more to come), and built an awesome swing set for the punk (and the future basher)!

There was, however, the small matter of the 16 sharp screws sticking through some places.

So even though it's against my religion, I went to a craft store. I bought wood blocks, wood glue, and wood pirate things. The punk helped me with the gluing. Et voilà!

Who wants to play?

Book. Camera. Me.

2011-08-08T13:24:00.000-07:00

Grumpity grump grump. That's what I was feeling this morning. I don't hide my emotions well. Never have, never will. So of course, my family was feeling the frowny vibes that were emanating from my very soul. My man is off work today. He likes living with me when I'm nice, but when I'm a grouch face like this morning? Not so much. So he volunteered to take the boys while I did... whatever I wanted!

And I wanted THIS!

After spoiling myself with two hours of falafel, books, and SILENCE, I returned home to these guys, refreshed and recharged.

A Saturday List

2011-08-06T14:50:00.000-07:00

1. We've been putting together a swing set this afternoon. And by "we," I mean "Tim." I helped him hold this piece though.

2. It's hard work.

3. The punk helped his dad by placing this fat piece of grass on the plank. See? We're all very helpful around here.

4. I'm grumpy today.

5. It may have to do with my lack of exercise and bounty of treats this week. Nah, that can't be it. I'm never hard on myself about that stuff.

6. While the boys were napping and my man was being manly, I went shopping for a new swimsuit because my giant boobs broke my old one. It's being held up by 2 safety pins, and who knows how long they'll hold?

7. I hate swimsuit shopping. Almost as much as I hate red licorice and PBS telethons.

8. I get to go on a date with my man tonight! Asian Star (my choice) and Captain America (his choice).

9. I think I'll get myself gussied up! And by that, I mean wipe the slobber off my shoulder and brush my teeth.

10. Remember when I used to fit into my clothes? Good times.

Good times.

I've Been Burgled!

2011-08-04T14:27:00.000-07:00

When my man is out of town, I get tired. So when the punk came into my room early this morning, I let him watch a couple cartoons while the basher and I dozed. After he finished his second episode of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, he asked if we could get up and get some breakfast. I opened one eye and grunted. He knew he wasn't going to get the response he wanted, so my sweet punk quietly left my room and shut the door. I was pleasantly surprised that he didn't do the normal thing, which is to get louder and louder in his protests until the baby wakes up, thereby putting an end to my repose. No, he almost seemed to sneak out as quietly as possible so as not to wake his overworked mama. What a thoughtful little guy!

About 2 minutes after he left my room, his motive was revealed. I heard Talking Carl coming from the front room. The sneaky punk had stolen my phone!

The phone burglar.

Caught!

If he is cute enough, he won't be punished.

Okay, he's off the hook.

Friend, Foe, or Something Else?

2011-08-02T13:44:00.001-07:00

Me: "Well my friend, you did such a good job at your swimming lesson today!"

Punk, noticing my choice of words: "My friend? Are you my friend?"

Me, after pausing to think that I am not supposed to be my child's friend; I'm supposed to be his parent. But this probably won't be a factor until his teenage years and then it'll be too late anyway. So to simplify things, I answered: "Yes, I am your friend! Are you my friend?"

Punk: "No. I'm not your friend. I'm your Calvin Boy."

So he gets it.

And now, here are today's swimming lesson videos for your viewing pleasure.

Diving Board

Back Float

Jumping Platform

Stabby Park

2011-07-30T13:08:00.000-07:00

"Stabby Park." That is what my friend calls Pioneer Park downtown. As many of its usual visitors hail from rough circumstances, I'm sure on most days she's not far off, but on Saturday mornings, the place is transformed into a lively farmer's market. My three boys and I met our girlfriends for an afternoon of sensory pleasures. The people watching (there is a highly concentrated number of crazies), the fresh produce, the handmade goods, the music, the tasty food... Summertime bliss.

Sharing the Photo Love

2011-07-27T21:01:00.000-07:00

When I was young, my dad told me that my hair was golden. I believed him and rejected any suggestion that it might also be called red. So naturally, my Uncle Wayne teased me about my "red" hair at every opportunity.

You know the popsicles that you can eat as a twosome or separate on the corner of the kitchen counter to eat one at a time? The popsicles that come in banana, root beer, orange, grape, and "blue" flavors? They remind me of my Aunt Karla, as do the Lion House and Abravanel Hall. And Anne of Green Gables.

My cousin Megan and I were very talented performers when we were young. We dazzled our parents with plays that we wrote and performed ourselves (meaning, we made our parents sit and watch as we made them up on the spot). We turned our bicycles into horses. We turned bits of dried pottery mud into treasures, with a little help from the hose. But most of the time we were brave princesses trying to escape the wicked witch who held us as prisoners. We were pretty awesome.

This is the family who invited me to be their photographer last weekend. Usually the three siblings are scattered among three different states, and soon their parents will leave for 18 months to serve a Mormon mission in Finland! But for this one weekend, everyone happened to be in Utah. Here are a few of my favorites.

Bubbles, Kick, Jump!

2011-07-26T13:54:00.000-07:00

The punk recently completed his first session of swimming lessons. It was two weeks of swimming every weekday. The first week was rough. This is what the punk looked like on his second day of swimming lessons (and first and third and forth).

He is the one with the tears.

The second week was a different story. While driving to the pool every day, he would tell me that he wasn't going to cry. And he didn't! On his last (tenth) day, he jumped off the diving board!

The crying sounds are coming from another kid in his class.

His comfort level and skill set improved so much in those two weeks that we decided to enroll him in a second session, starting next week. We will be spending every afternoon at the pool for two more weeks. Because our lesson time is the last before open swim, we get to stay after the lesson to have lunch and play in the pool, as long as I have someone there to help me with the two boys - usually a sister, mom or mother in-law. Not a bad way to spend the day!

We took advantage of the punk's grandparents' country club membership and enrolled him in lessons there. It's a nice pool with fantastic teachers (the punk's teacher Brooke is a saint; he talks about her all the time) and pretty mountain scenery. The only problem is that the menu consists of sinful temptations such as burgers (I enjoy the garden burger), fries, onion rings (my fav), cookies, ice cream, and the like. The ironic thing is that many of the country club members look like they've never eaten an onion ring in their life. Go figure.

Creatively Refreshed

2011-07-25T14:47:00.000-07:00

I'm going to be honest. Doubling my number of offspring has made my life more than twice as hard. At least, that's the way I perceive it. It's quite rare that I have any time alone between the hours of 6 am and 9 pm, whereas with only the punk, I could at least count on a quiet moment during his afternoon nap. I have not yet been able to coordinate the boys' nap schedules to happen at the same time so I am always holding, listening to, feeding, touching, reading to, playing catch with, changing, singing to, or cleaning up after one or the other, or both. In the four months since the basher entered my life, I have realized that having time to myself is very important to my sanity, but that it just doesn't happen very often. Hence... crazy mama.

I remember driving in the car with my mom when I was a child, and asking her to turn on some music. Sometimes she would just say, "No, I'm enjoying the silence." I thought she was totally bonkers. Now I say that.

Yesterday I left my three boys at home for an hour while I pretended to be a photographer. I shot some family pictures for my cousins downtown. Then after returning home for only an hour, I left again for 5 more hours to play a wedding with my string quartet. By the time I returned home at 10 pm, I was more rejuvenated and alive than I could ever feel after a day at the most luxurious spa! I had spent 6 whole hours being creative and using skills that I have developed over the years. Skills besides patience and sibling management. For just a few hours, I was able to do something that produced immediate results.

I understand that I am incredibly fortunate that I have the opportunity to stay home with my boys. Not everyone who wants to be a stay at home mom gets to do so. I am doing what I had always hoped I would be able to do. But it felt so great to take off my mama hat for half a day and work on something that challenged me in a completely different way.

Three cheers for a supportive husband who is able to support our family financially so I can stay home AND who easily picks up the slack when I go gallivanting! I really needed it.

Visit Strings of Elegance here.

Spaceships and Pirates

2011-07-23T13:26:00.000-07:00

Five. Four. Three. Two. One. BLASTOFF! With floor mat puzzle pieces as our spaceships, we zoom into outer space with one objective: the moon. I can see the earth shrinking away from us out of the round window of the ship, but when I point it out to the punk, he just looks puzzled. As we land on the moon, I ask him what he can see. He looks around. "Trees," he says. When we descend from our spaceships, he announces to Pirate Mama that we are going to hunt for some treasure. "Aye, Pirate Calvin!" And a-hunting we go. Rocks, pine cones, and weeds fill our treasure wheelbarrow.

When negative thoughts creep in about early mornings, muffin tops, whiny demands, and piles of laundry, I try to push them away with musings of my pirate astronaut punk and his little brother who happily comes along for the ride.

12of12: July (Tuesday)

2011-07-12T21:13:00.000-07:00

[Click on the block of photos to enlarge.]

1. The basher woke up at 5:45 to eat so I invited him back to my bed for some milk and a snooze. I didn't really sleep again as the punk was up at 6:30. 2. My little sister is watching my cousin's daughter Miriam so they came over to play. 3. Today was the punk's second swimming lesson. After yesterday's cry-fest, I told him that he would get a sucker if there were no tears today. We'll try again tomorrow. 4. Mmmmm... Feet. My mom came with us to the pool. I can't handle both boys there by myself. 5. Recovering. 6. Garden burger and onion rings. 7. Feeling much happier after lunch. 8. This morning was overcast and rainy, but the afternoon was gorgeous. Sunny but not too hot. 9. Two days into my two-month exercise plan. Ironically, the only time I spent indoors today was during my workout. With my man out of town, an outdoor run wasn't in the cards. 10. Little Sis came over again to hang out and make dinner: butternut squash risotto with kale, and cherries. 11. The punk thoroughly enjoyed the cherries. 12. Little Sis is leaving for college next month so we're savoring our time with her now.

Nighttime Run

2011-07-06T20:55:00.000-07:00

Sunset

Twinkling city lights

Shining crescent moon

Peeping into inhabited living rooms and kitchens

Sweet campfire aroma

Party music

Shrimp scampi in my tummy

Returning home to a still house

A 9 pm run is a different experience than the same route at 6 am.

I like it.

[the view into my basement when I returned home]

At The Ranch

2011-07-05T20:57:00.000-07:00

As always, we had a lovely time at Grandpa's ranch. My family has celebrated our nation's birthday at the ranch every year since I can remember. When I was a kid, we brought only our old, stained, ripped clothes to the ranch because there was only one bathroom and about 50 people. The kids didn't have priority in the tub. Now things are a little more civilized (3 toilets, 3 showers, and a shaded bowery with picnic tables), and there are fewer people that stay at the cabin. (We still celebrate with the whole extended family, but most families opt to stay overnight at a motel in town.) There are still only two tiny bedrooms though, so everyone who stays at the cabin sleeps either on the deck or in a tent. I don't understand why my fellow Johnsons would ever choose a motel room over the rhythmic crickets, milky stars, and campfire aroma. My annual trip to the ranch nourishes me in a way that a schedule, a computer screen, and a pillowtop mattress never could.

I miss you Grandpa. We all do.

Light Bulb Moment

2011-06-28T10:18:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I was still trying to get myself ready when my mom came to the door at 9 am. The boys were dressed and fed, but my hair was still wet. I put the basher down for a nap and Grandma Caryn played outside with the punk while I finished getting ready. Then she stayed with the boys while I went grocery shopping. Who would have thought that grocery shopping by myself would be such a luxury? I returned home and unloaded the groceries from the car, put them away, started the chicken in the crock pot, unloaded the dishwasher, loaded it with the dirty stuff in the sink, and made two fat turkey sandwiches for my mom and me. As we were enjoying our lunch outside with the punk, I told her that I had been trying to hurry through all these morning chores so I could begin my day. As soon as I had that thought, I realized that I had it wrong. These things that I was trying to cross off my list ARE my day. I don't have the luxury of "getting ready" for the day. The minute the basher starts squeaking is the minute my day begins. As soon as I came to this realization, I felt relief. The stress of trying to "get ready" melted away and I was able to take a step back and watch the punk enjoy his drippy popsicle. Because cleaning his face and clothes is just another part of my day. And this day is a good one.

[mmm... melty goodness]

[oops... melty goodness on the ground]

Delicious Pig

2011-06-21T11:22:00.000-07:00

While reading But Not The Hippopotamus by Sandra Boynton:

"The hog and the frog cavort in the bog."

Me, pointing to the hog: "What is that?"

Punk: "A pig!"

Me: "Right! Another name for a pig is a hog. Can you say hog?"

Punk: "Hot dog!"

Oh punk, if you only knew how right you are.

His Natural Habitat

2011-06-20T13:58:00.000-07:00

I found the punk sitting comfortably under this beautiful Japanese maple, enjoying a warm oatmeal chocolate chip cookie. This natural chamber is perfectly punk-sized. He can sit on the old railroad tie or stand upright under the bowed branches. If he were wearing camo, I wouldn't be able to see him.

It made me think of the "secret" places in which I used to find sanctuary as a child. The woodpile on the north side of my house (where I once punctured my bare foot with a rusty nail). The tunnel-like trail behind Grandpa's cabin; it was the only way to get from the cabin to the "Indian caves" via the alfalfa field, without having to squeeze through a barbed wire fence. Although it was a main thoroughfare, we girls thought it was our secret hideout and were infuriated when we found the boys back there.

In addition to meditating with a sweet treat, the punk enjoys spying on the neighbors...

"Look at that man!"

Being adorable...

And being ferocious.

He discovered these beautiful flowers and picked one, which we put in a vase inside. Later, my man told me they are chives. No wonder they smell funny! Nevertheless, the punk lovingly named his little pet Flower Bell.

I showed the punk our first strawberry! Then I immediately regretted my foolishness when I remembered that he was so excited to see a jalapeno in the adjacent pot that he tore half the plant apart. We'll see how long this little berry lasts under the punk's supervision.

After busying myself inside for a few minutes, I looked out the window to see the punk donning his dad's hat and work gloves.

He is at the age where he has really started to look up to his daddy. Here, he's checking out the sprinklers and puttering around the yard, just like his old man.

He even has his dad's "don't take my picture" expression down!

Existentialism

2011-06-19T21:57:00.000-07:00

When a girl is evaluating her life and trying to sort it all out,

When she is trying to break bad habits and implement good habits,

When she is trying to figure out the reason for the existence of those bad habits in the first place,

When she is attempting to determine if she has the guts to become the person she wants to be,

It's best if she has something like this to look at:

Tonight

2011-06-14T20:38:00.000-07:00

I am thinking about my punk. He is:

joyous

silly

happy

energetic

He is great at:

kicking a ball

singing songs (his rhythm currently out-performs his intonation)

loving his brother

reciting poetry

Today at the grocery store, I was holding him in my arms while we filled the last space in the cart with fruits and veggies. I gave him a hug and a kiss. He took my face in his warm hands and tried to kiss me on the mouth. I turned my head so he could kiss my cheek, which he thought was hilarious. So of course, he did it again and I turned my head again. We ended up laughing ourselves silly by the bananas with his hands squishing my face.

Tonight as I lay my head down to prepare my body and mind for another exhausting day, I will remember this and be happy.

12of12: June (Sunday)

2011-06-13T07:33:00.000-07:00

On the 12th of each month, I take 12 photos to document my day.

Hello June!

[Click on the block of photos to enlarge.]

1. The punk's potty treats. He gets 1 for trying. No real success yet. 2. Marissa joined me outside during Sunday School to take a photo of our church building on the mountain. 3. The button on a chair in the mother's lounge at church. The basher and I spend 20 minutes on that chair every week. At a glance, the fabric is just an old, mute blue, but up close, I like the texture. 4. The punk has not yet learned that running in the hall is not reverent. 5. Sunday afternoon nap! 6. We now have a grassy slope instead of cinderblock stairs, and boulders instead of cinderblock tiers. 7. Please pass the dental floss. 8. While I was doing the dishes, I turned around to find that my man had put the basher's burp cloth (aka turban) on his head and given him a rattle (aka scepter). Is he a sheikh or a pharaoh? 9. While we were walking outside, I opened the patio door into the punk's forehead. Oops! 10. Three pairs of chicken legs. 11. Their epidermis is showing. 12. My man is leavin' on a jet plane... again. Gearing up for another week as a single parent.

Another Decade

2011-06-11T20:42:00.000-07:00

A couple years ago, when I was so very young... like, 28 or something... I looked ahead at the big 3-0 and thought, what's the big deal? I didn't understand why anyone had a hard time with this age. It's not old. However, in the weeks approaching my birthday, I did find myself looking forward to June 10th with some emotion. It's the end of my 20s. The beginning of the end of young-looking skin, great metabolism, and perky boobs (although that's more the fault of my two hungry babies). I am now called "Ma'am" instead of "Miss." But you know what? I am looking forward to this decade as a time of confidence, comfort, and family. 30 is my year! Here's how I celebrated this momentous occasion.

Uncle Davey came over for a couple hours in the morning to sit with the boys...

So I could do this...

And this...

Then my man flew home from his business trip to sit with the boys so I could go out for sushi with my ladies.

When I got home, I spent some quality time with the basher boy...

Then I spent some quality time with myself.

Then with my family.

My friend Amy and her 3 beauties came over with a beautiful little one-person cake and candle, and a handmade card, written by my two piano students. They knew I had already celebrated with a surprise party that my man threw for me last week, so they decided I needed to have something to stick a candle in to make a wish on my actual birthday. I also had visits from my beautiful mother in-law and my lovely cousin/best friend Brooke.

We tried to make the basher laugh. He managed a tiny giggle. (His first laugh was elicited by his grandpa on his 61st birthday, earlier in the week.)

My man and the punk and I enjoyed some $5 pizza for dinner.

After the kids went to bed, I practiced my violin for a few minutes in preparation for a string quartet gig the next day.

Then I took a moment to make a wish and blow out my candle.

30 years old? Bring it!

Down To The River To Pray

2011-06-09T20:37:00.000-07:00

It seems an appropriate song for the bathtub, wouldn't you say?

{The sucking noise is the basher in my arms, sucking on his fist.}

Snapshots of a Tuesday Afternoon

2011-06-07T21:14:00.000-07:00

Baby Bird Update

2011-06-07T20:28:00.000-07:00

Earlier this evening, the boys and I were chillin' on a blanket on the grass in the backyard, very near the tree with the robin's nest. Mr. Robin came by with a long worm folded in his beak, but didn't go directly to his nest. He perched on the fence to scope the place out. Then he flew to the roof. Then to a rock. Then to a branch on another tree. He did this for several minutes, all while observing the funny-looking animals on the BYU blanket to see if we could be trusted. I noticed, however, that the nest was quiet. No peeping, no fuzzy heads with open beaks. And I started to worry that, despite the constant stream of worms being crammed down their throats, perhaps the chicks hadn't survived.

After bathing and putting the punk to bed, I walked outside with the basher (who was up next for mealtime and bedtime) to pick up the blanket I had left on the grass. As I bent down to grab the quilt, I exclaimed, "Oh!" A scraggly, feathery brown tennis ball with a beak was staring at me!

This creature and I studied each other for several seconds. I was surprised how round he was! I guess worms do a body good. When he didn't immediately fly away, I decided to run inside and grab my camera (and stash the basher in his swing for a minute). After taking a few shots and getting closer and closer to this fuzzy thing, I ran inside to interrupt the punk's reverie. Psssh, yeah right. He had sneaked out of bed to play with his toys in his room, like he does every night. Since we had been observing this baby's parents for a few days now, I thought he'd like to say hello to the little birdie.

He said, "Hello Baby Robin!" But Mr. and Mrs. Robin did not appreciate our cordial greeting to their offspring. They angrily chirped and flapped from the nearest tree, so I told the punk that we'd better let the baby calm down and practice flying.

I have to say, I was happy to know that the little fuzzball had parents looking out for him. It must be the mama bear in me. When I looked out the window after putting the basher in bed, the baby bird was gone.

For The Birds

2011-06-05T14:22:00.000-07:00

Ahhh, Sunday afternoon. We survived the 3+ hours at church with two active boys (and a few long-winded speakers). I've eaten a delicious lunch of blistered grape tomatoes, warmed goat cheese, gourmet olive oil, balsamic vinegar, and fresh basil (right off the potted plant in my kitchen) on a toasted baguette. The boys are taking their naps. I have just settled down with a page-turner in the warm sun when I notice an urgent peeping coming from the scrub oak to my left. There's a mama bird feeing her chicks in a nest! I ran inside for my camera and zoom lens, climbed onto a raised bed near the tree, and waited...

and waited...

And then:

I hope you're enjoying your day of rest. Like many parents of young ones, I don't think this mama bird gets one.

A Conversation with the Punk

2011-06-03T09:39:00.000-07:00

Me (to the punk): "Look at that robin eating that big worm!"

Punk: "I'm gonna eat that worm."

Me: "What do you think a worm tastes like?"

Punk: "It tastes like chicken!"

A few minutes later, I was feeding the basher and explaining to the punk how a mama robin feeds her babies. He told me that when he is a robin, he will feed his babies like that. I asked him what else he will do when he is a robin. Without skipping a beat, he pointed to the TV remotes on the mantel (out of his reach) and said, "I will fly up there and catch those remotes!"

Love in My Lungs

2011-06-02T13:31:00.000-07:00

There are times when, as a mama, I look at my boys and suddenly I can't breathe. My chest tightens, the air leaves me, and I have to consciously open my lungs and take a breath. I guess you could say they take my breath away. Usually this happens during an otherwise unremarkable event, like while playing in the backyard or finger painting at the kitchen table. I look at the little boy in front of me and am overwhelmed by his goodness. His creativity, his innate joy, his potential.

[He is hiding, not seeking. Can you find him?]

Five Calamities in Five Hours

2011-05-31T16:22:00.000-07:00

7:03 am

I was feeding the basher on my bed. The punk climbed up and sat on his knees on the edge of the bed. Although I was relieved that he wasn't sitting on top of me as he is wont to do when I am engaged with the basher, I suggested that he come a bit closer so he wouldn't be tempted to fall off the bed. Just as the words came out of my mouth, his little body surged off the side, head-first onto the wood floor.

Injury #1: He complained that his thumb hurt. No obvious signs of concussion.

8:37 am

Sometimes I fit the stay-at-home-mom cliche: sweatshirt, ponytail, flip flops. But once in a while, I try to look a little more presentable. Out came the curling iron. As I wrapped my long strand around the iron, my arm forgot that it needed to be out of the way of the hot stick.

Injury #2: Burn on left wrist.

12:01 pm

My punk requested "cheese toasties" (my man's name for open-faced grilled cheese, broiled in the oven) with his soup for lunch. What my punk wants, my punk gets. Sometimes. So, even though we only had one relatively thin slice of cheddar left in the fridge, I was determined to get two even thinner slices out of it in order to cover a slice of bread. As I grabbed my very long, recently-sharpened kitchen knife, I thought, "This could be dangerous. I wish I had a cheese slicer." I dug into the cheddar and whoosh-shlrbt! The blade had penetrated my finger! My first thought was, "Crap. My man will never let me live this down." (He's always after me about the way I wield my giant kitchen knives.) My second thought was, "If I need a stitch, will it heal before my next quartet gig in two weeks?"

Injury #3: A very bloody left forefinger.

12:11 pm

I was pacing the kitchen with my finger wrapped in its third paper towel, holding it over my head to try to stop the bleeding. Suddenly, the punk let out a pitiful, whiny scream. I looked over to find him hanging by his head from the tall kitchen stool! He had tried to dismount by sliding feet first, face-down in between the seat and the rod that acts as arm rest, but his large noggin got stuck.

Injury #4: Mostly his pride.

12:20 pm

As I was still a bit preoccupied with my blasted finger, I thought it would be best if I moved the punk to a safer chair. One a bit closer to the ground, without the capacity to seriously injure if he chose to dismount improperly. However, as this is another paragraph in my series of calamities, you know this chair turned out to be just as hazardous as the last one, right? He was on all fours: kneeling on the chair and leaning on his hands. The chair was quite close to the table, and it was twisted so the seat back met the table. Somehow, his hand slipped off the chair so he ended up with his head caught in between the seat back and the table, his chin hitting the table top as his arm surged toward the floor.

Injury #5: Mostly his pride again, especially since I couldn't stop laughing. It looked funny!

Looking at Leeks

2011-05-30T21:16:00.000-07:00

I was mesmerized by the colors and patterns of nature while slicing these leeks for potato leek pizza. Isn't it marvelous that this beautiful thing came from the earth?

Sing Your Song

2011-05-27T09:15:00.000-07:00

At age 11 3/4, I finally got what I had wished for for years. A little sister. I called her Babe and pushed her around the block in her stroller. We danced together in the room we shared. We shared a bunk bed until I got married. She was a pretty little blonde with curly hair and big eyes. One time, she looked like this:

Now look at her.

She is fiercely loyal and always dependable. She will rub your back when you are sad and play with your hair just because.

She has sausage toes. And beautiful blue/green eyes. She is athletic and adventurous. Silly and determined.

She is the punk's favorite aunt, with good reason. She'll run and wrestle and play and laugh and pretend and sing and tickle.

No one can make me laugh as hard as she can.

And in August, she is leaving home. Sing your song, Little Sis. Then call me and tell me all about it. Okay? Okay?

Thai Curry Vegetable and Tofu Soup

2011-05-18T20:18:00.000-07:00

With my man out of town, I am taking the opportunity to try some new recipes that I know he won't eat. Tonight I chose a recipe that I ripped out of my April Real Simple: Thai Curry Vegetable and Tofu Soup. First I stuffed the basher into my Moby wrap, immediately inducing what I like to call a kangaroo coma. It has been proven impossible for him to stay awake for longer than 90 seconds in that thing.

The punk "helped" me for a while before retiring to his room. (Lemons and apples are not ingredients in this dish.)

Here we go...

1 Tbs. Thai red curry paste

1 tsp. grated fresh ginger

2 C vegetable broth

1 14-oz. can coconut milk

kosher salt

1/2 lb. mushrooms, sliced

2 carrots, halved lengthwise and sliced crosswise

14 oz. extra-firm tofu, drained and cut into cubes

4 oz. snow peas

2 Tbs. fresh lime juice

1/4 C torn fresh basil leaves

Asian chili garlic sauce, for serving (which I forgot, but will try next time)

Place the curry paste and ginger in a medium saucepan. Whisk in the broth, coconut milk, and 1 teaspoon salt and bring to a boil. Add the mushrooms & carrots to the saucepan and simmer until just tender, 3-5 minutes. Add the tofu and snow peas and simmer until the snow peas are bright green, about 1 minute more. Stir in the lime juice. Sprinkle with the basil and serve with the chili garlic sauce.

When my man is out of town, I often invite family or friends over to share in my bounty, especially if I make something besides fish sticks or mac & cheese. It gives me pleasure to cook for someone, and they pay me back by entertaining the punk and/or holding the basher... and making yummy noises. That's very important to a performer like me. My brother Michael didn't disappoint.

Mmmm... just enough left for lunch tomorrow.

Sister Day

2011-05-17T20:40:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time, a 7 year-old girl sat in the room she shared with her sister, 12 years her senior. She was considering the current holiday, Mother's Day. She asked her big sis, "There's a Mother's Day and a Father's Day. Is there a Sister Day?" Big Sis said, "No, but we could make one." And behold! Sister Day was born.

Little Sis and I have celebrated Sister Day every year since then. We exchange gifts, we plan activities, we spend time.

She gave me this awesome mirror and a mug with a monogrammed M, perfect for hot chocolate.

I gave her the necklace in my friend Amy's blog post, seen here.

Amy also spent some time with us, taking pictures for Little Sis, who is graduating from high school in a few weeks.

Then Sister and I went out for lunch (Star of India), hot chocolate (Starbucks), a stroll (The Gateway), a movie (Something Borrowed), and dinner (Happy Sumo). Ahhhhh, bliss!

Then I had to get home to my baby before my boobs exploded.

If you have a sister, I highly recommend starting a Sister Day tradition of your own. Join us next year on the Saturday after Mother's Day. Spread the Sister Love!

12of12: May (Thursday)

2011-05-13T12:50:00.000-07:00

On the 12th of each month, I take 12 photos to document my day. Hello May!

{Click on the block of photos to enlarge.}

1. The boys had a bit of a rough night and an early morning so I didn't get up at 6:15 to work out. This just meant that I took the double stroller out at 8:00 to hike the hills in my neighborhood. It was a lovely morning with puffy clouds, and the blossoms are boasting like peacocks! 2. As I was drying my hair in my bathroom, I looked over to find the boys like this on my bed. 3. My brother David took a break from work and brought Jimmy John's sandwiches to enjoy in the sunshine. 4. The punk cried over his spilled milk and demanded a new shirt. 5. Then David played in the backyard with the punk... 6. While I took the basher grocery shopping. 7. By afternoon, the clouds had disappeared and there was nothing but clear, blue skies. 8. I got exactly 5 bites and 2 1/2 paragraphs into my "me" time before the basher loudly announced that he was awake and hungry. 9. I forgive him. 10. Turkey burgers with black bean mango salsa for dinner, and Skookies with vanilla ice cream and homemade chocolate sauce for dessert. 11. My man at the grill. 12. Migraine.

A Very Useful Engine

2011-05-11T11:17:00.000-07:00

I walked into the basher's bedroom to find the punk standing on a stool in front of the changing table. He had his toy Thomas the Train on the table and was cleaning him with a couple of diaper wipes. As he wiped him down, he said, "Ewwwww!" When I asked what he was doing, he said he was "changing Thomas." Then he proceeded to grab the bulb syringe, which we call the booger sucker, held it up to Thomas' nose and told me that he was "getting Thomas' boogers." It seems he has it all down. Get ready, Mr. Bell. We're going on a hot date and hiring our 2 year-old to babysit!

Kindermusik

2011-05-04T12:55:00.000-07:00

A few months ago, my mom kidnapped me, bound me with rope and duct tape, and forced me to sign up for Kindermusik. Actually, she gently brought it up every time she talked to me until I finally looked into it. Then she paid half the tuition. The villain.

It is the punk's very favorite thing to do every week. It's tied with church for first place. Really. After sacrament meeting on the basher's blessing day, we told the punk we were going home to celebrate with our family and friends instead of going to nursery, which he loudly protested. Then he took off running through the crowds, which did not so easily part for me, a grown-up, and quickly made his way all the way to the other side of the building and down the stairs, and then down another long hall, to his final destination: the nursery room. He wasn't happy when I finally caught up to him and detached him from the toys.

Anyway... Kindermusik is fun. The punk gets to explore all kinds of different instruments, songs, movements, activities, and stories.

We listen to his Kindermusik CDs almost exclusively in the car. He knows all the songs by heart, and he can often be heard singing them while he plays by himself.

(The kids in the photo below were supposed to hold onto the band with the grown-ups, but they all thought it would be more fun to lie in the middle and watch us act like fools.)

He always gets a supercool stamp on both his hands at the end of each class.

The only downside to this Kindermusik business is that I walk around all day singing things like, "Fiddle dee dee, fiddle dee dee, the fly has married the bumblebee." Someone please pass the Adele!

Scenes From a Monday Morning

2011-05-02T20:33:00.001-07:00

At approximately 10:45 am, immediately following the basher boy's second breakfast, I stumbled upon this scene. It included smashed tortilla chips, an opened bag of Easter candy, and partially peeled garlic.

At approximately 10:46 am, the punk learned how to mop the floor by hand.

The Basher's Blessing Day

2011-05-01T20:08:00.001-07:00

Asher Basher was fortunate to have sun (!) on his blessing day. We had lots of support from family and friends who came to our church for the blessing, then joined us for brunch at our home afterwards. I was busy with my cinnamon rolls and the rest of the spread, and forgot to take pictures of our guests and the grub. It was delicious. You can take my word for it.

After the celebration and our Sunday afternoon naps, my man and the punk kicked a ball around in the sun (!) while the basher and I sat in the sun (!). Although chilly, it finally felt like spring.

Sunny sun sun (!)

Super Punk

2011-04-27T14:46:00.000-07:00

"I am Super Punk!"

"I run away from my mama at incredible speeds!"

"My pants are too big; therefore, I shall discard the menacing things..."

"... and continue to run at incredible speeds, until my slippery socks fail me and I splat on the kitchen tile."

Super Punk's little brother is the best comfort after a super fall.

Egg Hunting and Trampoline Jumping

2011-04-24T19:23:00.000-07:00

As the only egg hunter, the punk enjoyed exclusive access to the field.

He had plenty of guidance from 3 uncles, 1 aunt, 1 grandpa, 1 grandma, 1 great-grandma, and 1 great-great-grandma.

A two year-old egg hunter is marvelous entertainment for three bachelors.

And his aunt and uncles have more energy to play than his tired parents. It's great fun all around.

While growing up, my cousin, who hailed from the east side of the valley, always looked up when airplanes flew overhead. I never noticed them. They flew over our house about every 3 minutes. Now the punk is the east-sider who notices the planes.

Uncles are fun.

Happy Easter

2011-04-24T13:52:00.000-07:00

The punk thought it was pretty cool that the "Mooster Bunny" brought him a "Mooster basket" filled with treats and 6 bottles of bubbles! Before church, I wanted to take a few pictures of my good looking boys. The punk thought it unnecessary to obey my commands to look at the camera and smile.

He just wasn't interested in being told what to do. I can't relate to that at all. Nope. Not one bit.

So my man told the punk that he had a treat for him, and look what happened...

Bribery. Sometimes it's the only option.

Happy Easter, folks!

One Month

2011-04-23T06:15:00.000-07:00

We have survived the first month of the basher's life!

He has survived his brother's suffocating affection and his mama's 3:00 am breath.

The punk has survived his change in status from "only child: isn't he sweet?" to "big brother: please bring me that burp cloth, and stop climbing on me while I'm feeding the baby!"

My man has survived living with Crazy Hormone Lady.

And I have survived being Crazy Hormone Lady.

One month in and doin' fine.

A Peek Into His Mind

2011-04-22T06:56:00.000-07:00

One of the punk's favorite pastimes is choosing words for his mama to write so he can name each letter. Here is our latest collection:

Oh, to be two years old and unencumbered with words like budget, responsibility, and calories.

Rub A Dub Dub

2011-04-21T09:52:00.000-07:00

The basher's umbilical cord finally fell off so we were able to give him his first real bath. Of course, the punk wanted to be in the middle of the action. It makes me so happy to see how much he adores his baby brother. He has a constant desire to be with his little buddy, and to softly rub his head or cheek. He has actually become quite good at helping me burp the baby, rhythmically patting his back until he burps, then looking at me with pride, like a puppy who just killed his first rodent. All of this involvement is lovely and sweet to watch, until he wants to be all up in my grill while I'm trying to nurse the babe, "helping" me adjust... ahem... the basher's feeding apparatus.