Bad hair day.

I went to bed last night realizing that I had not rinsed the conditioner out of my hair during my shower that evening. Oh, what fatigue does to us... Oh well, I guess I'll just have to pull my greasy mane back into the ponytail that has become so familiar.
Usually, I time my haircuts based on when it has been one month since I last styled my hair. I'm now going on about 3 months straight. Pretty sure it's time. While we're on the subject, I went for 5 days last week without applying any makeup. And actually went out in public on most of those days. This may not be a major feat for many of you, but for an almost 31-year-old who is painfully aware of her increasing wrinkles and bags under the eyes, I need my foundation!
This week I'm shooting for 6 days.

Dessert for dinner.

Our family has a tradition of eating breakfast for dinner on Sunday evenings. It all began when our ward started meeting from 1-4 pm and, wanting the Sabbath to truly be a day of rest on all accounts, I resolved that cooking breakfast takes less time and energy than most of the other meals on my menu. Coming home at 4:15, starving already, with little time for rolls to rise or lasagna to bake, it just made sense for us. Even after switching to the 9 am schedule early this year, leaving us plenty of time for dinner preparation, the tradition still sticks. (Side note: perhaps the biggest advantage to breakfast-for-dinner Sundays is that Tim is often the head chef and I get to play back-up.)

Tonight someone had the brilliant idea to make chocolate-chip pancakes. Now, I'm not sure that I've ever actually eaten such a pancake, before tonight, that is, but it sounded delightful. I consoled myself with the fact that we were making them with freshly ground whole-wheat flour, increasing the nutrition content by leaps and bounds. Let's face it, though, there wasn't much to begin with.

I've heard of people serving chocolate chip pancakes topped with whipped cream, additional chocolate chips, and a sprinkling of powdered sugar. After tonight, I can't imagine such gluttony. It is with deep regret that I admit that tonight, we broke our tradition of breakfast for dinner to eat dessert for dinner. I ate mine plain. No syrup, no butter, nothing. Who needs it when eating the equivalent of a chocolate chip cookie? They were so rich that our kids, who normally devour pancakes like, well, like pancakes, could only stomach one each before they complained of being uncomfortably full.

I think we'll opt for omelettes next week.

Catching up on pics.

"I'll get you my pretty, and your little dog, too!"

Ladies night.

As I've mentioned before, I grew up with 5 brothers (and only one sister, nine years younger than me). Thanks to my inexperience with girls (in a family setting, that is), I've sometimes doubted my ability to mother three of them (and perhaps more to come, the way we're going).
My kids have a shoebox full of clips and hair bows, most of which were given to them by their sweet grandmother (my mother-in-law) and which largely go unused. I could blame it on the crazy haircuts my kids have given themselves in recent months, but, instead, let's call it like it is. I'm just not a girly person.
Crafts? At our house it means a box full of tempera paints and a stack of construction paper. I try though, I really do.
Oh, and it only occured to me recently that my kids could wear dresses on days other than Sunday.
Sure, my kids are into dress-up and princesses and dolls but they equally love rolling in mud, wrestling and scaling just about anything that looks treacherous. Good thing I don't have anxiety issues.
Anyway, I decided that, since Tim was going out of town overnight this week, I should try to have fun with the fact that I was blessed with three beautiful, fun, creative girls and have a ladies night. Among other things, our plan included cooking together, doing a craft, eating chocolate, styling hair, painting nails, and watching a chick flick (ok, Ratatoille, I had to cheat somewhere).
We only got through half of it before my kids had obedience issues and I had to withhold privileges (namely, painting nails and Ratatoille). Serious disappointment. At least I got my chocolate, though.

On the flip side.

Top ten reasons I look forward to moving back into our first home turned rental property.

1. I will have only 1400 square feet of space to clean compared with my current 2500. Hurray!

2. Square foot gardening. 4 garden beds designed specifically for vegetable gardening will make me one happy camper!

3. Color. I miss the blue room. And, our most recent tenants (actually, they're also our friends) painted the main room a most delightful shade to replace the boring white that used to reside there.

4. Built-in garage shelving. One could argue, who needs shelving when we've got 960 square feet of garage space to work with at our current home? But for one who despises clutter, you might understand a bit.

5. Frogs. There's this swampy area behind the property that caters to frogs in the summertime. A soothing lullaby, if you ask me.

6. No backyard neighbors. Unless you count the junior high school kids running the track during P.E.

7. Walking path. It turns what would be a five-minute drive into a five-minute walk (or two minute bike ride) to the elementary school where Anna will start kindergarten in the fall.

8. Nearby friends. A bunch of intelligent ladies who make up my book group will soon be my neighbors as well.

9. Mature trees. In this case, mature means that you don't have to fight your five-year-old for the shade.

10. A garden shed. This way, I can keep the fertilizer and the vehicle separate, thank you very much.

Thanks for indulging me. But, then again, this is my journal. You are welcome to read it, but you don't have to like it.

It's official!

In honor of finally getting our house on the market, I've decided to list the top ten things I will miss about our home.
1. The laundry chute. Last night I had second thoughts about my affection for the chute as my 16 month-old was throwing toys down it (being encouraged by the squeals and laughter of her older sisters, who were waiting below).
2. Our moon window. We have this square window on the landing that, when we first purchased the house, seemed rather odd, at best. We have since discovered that each night as we head upstairs to retire to our bed, we catch a picturesque glimpse of the night sky - a perfect frame for the moon.
3. No backyard neighbors. It's not that we're private people. In fact, we spent the first year in our house with no fence and we'd often catch our neighbors walking across our yard (or playing on our swing set). I miss that, at times. What we enjoy now is gate access to a common area - a great playground for nature walks and adventures with the kids.
4. Our view of the Boise foothills. Okay, so it's not nearly as astounding as being nestled in the mountains, but if you catch the normally-brown foothills in just the right light, at sunset, it's actually rather beautiful.
5. My kitchen. Spacious. Open. Warm. Lots of light. Plenty of storage. I know, I sound like our for sale by owner flyer. But, it's true!
6. My rose bushes. During the summer, they grow just high enough to bless my kitchen windows (situated right in front of our dining area) with a gorgeous view of dozens of beautiful red roses.
7. Our garage. Have you ever seen a four-car garage? I hadn't, until we bought this house. What I like best about it, though, is that it's two cars deep (and then some) and two cars wide so that when you look at our house from the front, the garage doesn't dominate. It just looks like your average two-car until you open the door.
8. My neighbors. My hairdresser lives two doors down. At least she was my hairdresser until a few months ago when she quit to spend more time with her family (Hmmph. Priorities...) My next door neighbor on one side is a horticulturist with a big heart who has saved our lawn and landscaping with his wisdom and service. And I can't even begin to enumerate the roles that my other next-door neighbor has played over the past three years. I will miss them all.
9. An east-facing backyard. Which means that when it's 7 o'clock and pushing 100 degrees, I can sit on my back patio in relative comfort.
10. Lots and lots of tulips and lilies. If I'm lucky, they will be in full bloom just in time for someone to make an offer and then I'll take what is rightfully mine and run!

So, anyone know anyone looking for a house in Boise?

Who needs toys?

We have a playroom brimming with playthings. In my last-ditch efforts to declutter before our house hit the market this week, what did my children find to be the most fascinating item in the house? A cardboard box. No surprises there, but still very cute. It kept them busy for at least an hour before I had to crack down and throw it out as I had intended. Kids and their imaginations...

Toaster = Unromantic gift?

I won a toaster at my company Christmas party in 1997. For the past 10 years, this appliance has served me well, living in over ten homes (not counting the months it spent in storage while we were in between homes and when I was on my mission). I'm pretty sure, based on the brand name and quality of my toaster, that it probably cost no more than $20 to begin with ($30 in today's dollars) but that darned thing just kept on plugging away. Its only vice was the little door beneath it that would open to expel the gobs of crumbs that had accumulated since its last cleaning. Well, after a few years of ownership, the door would open but refuse to close, thus leaving its pile of contents on my kitchen counter until I had the urge to clean the mess up. Annoying, but a perfectly good toaster, nonetheless.
A few weeks ago, my toaster malfunctioned while in the middle of a toasting cycle. It protested my pleadings to pop out my piece of toast at the appropriate time. Annoyed? No way. I thought, "Finally! The perfect excuse to get rid of this piece of crap." When Tim came home for lunch that day, repeat scenario. His bagel would not come out without his having to unplug the toaster and yank it out with a fork. Sadly, though, my husband is an engineer. Which means, among other things, that he can fix just about anything. Even the toaster that I wanted to chuck, oh, about five years ago in the interest of my countertop.
He must have noted my displeasure at his having repaired my oldest appliance because within a few days, we had ordered a new one online. For my birthday. Which leads me to my next point.
Whoever said that appliances make cruddy gifts should be glad he is not married to me. I think they're awesome (especially if they replace a mess-making toaster). Being an insanely practical person on most days, my most enjoyable gifts are not those that come from the heart, but those that fulfill a need. (The word need should be interpreted very loosely here.) I know, boring. Here's a short list of my faves:
1. Kitchenaid Stand-mixer - Birthday, 2005
2. Kitchenaid attachments (wheat grinder, pasta maker, juicer) - Christmas 2005
3. Rice cooker - Mother's Day 2006
4. 3 quart saucepan - Birthday 2007
5. Purse (yes, I own only one - I told you I'm practical) - Birthday 2007

That being said, I am a sucker for flowers, on any occasion.

Kindergarten here we come!

For some moms, sending a child off to kindergarten is a liberating experience. Who can blame them? The first five years of a child's life bring hours and hours of feeding, changing, bathing, training, teaching, reading, playing, entertaining, etc. I get tired just thinking about it. Oh wait, I'm already tired because I'm still doing it.

For others, the first day of kindergarten is a day faced with trepidation, a moment where a mom wonders if she has prepared her child adequately for the challenges he/she faces in the "real world". (So maybe it's a bit of a stretch to qualify elementary school as the real world, but still, you catch my drift)

I find myself somewhere in between the two. I look forward to having a few hours a day without my oldest child, but not because I need a break from her. I just want a bit of uninterrupted time with my other children, attention that Anna qualified for simply by coming into the world before they did. She wasn't however, born into this world with an overwhelming amount of self-confidence, a trait that a mother can only do so much to instill. For that reason, I worry that when Johnny from school criticizes her drawing, or Sally laughs while she's reading aloud, the damage will be near-irreparable.

What's a mom to do?

Last week I traveled to the local elementary school to register Anna for kindergarten. After bounding out to the car with the energy of a chimp, her excitement ended as soon as we hit the school boundaries. Her other self surfaced. The rigidly shy, I-won't-open-my-mouth-to-talk-to-someone-I've-never-met-before-for-a-million-dollars self. As we traveled from station to station, her mouth clamped shut, her small figure clinging to my side, I increasingly dreaded the moment when she would be given a basic skills test. Very simple. Write your name. Say your ABC's. Count to 10. Name these colors. Cut out this picture. Hop on one foot. Draw these shapes.

Sure enough, she exceeded my wildest expectations. In a bad way, that is. Not only did Anna cower in timidness, I watched her spirit deteriorate with each prompting we gave her. She was using every ounce of energy she had just to keep the tears in. I saw her face wrenched with emotional agony and asked the kind teacher who was administering the test what is usually done in such situations. "I don't know, I'll go ask," she says.

I used the time that she was gone to give Anna a big hug and several words of encouragement, knowing that she would regret not having performed to the best of her ability. She needed to succeed. For her own sake.

Mrs. McDaniel returned to tell us that we could come back another time and repeat the test without all the extra distraction imposed by having 15 or so kids, their parents and teachers in the same room. Anna did not want to come back a second time. She grabbed the sheet with the colors on it and started spitting out correct answers left and right so that we could get out of there and not come back until the fall.

And we probably won't.

My version of Netflix.

There are dozens of government sponsored services of which I do not intend to take advantage at any point of my life. In spite of such "principles", there is one service that I truly could not live without. I love the Bookmobile. More broadly speaking, I love the public library system. I reserve countless books and DVD's so that I do not have to drop hundreds (maybe thousands) of dollars a year on a cable subscription, Tivo , children's book clubs and impulse book purchases at Costco. Sure, some in-demand titles require the utmost patience from even the thriftiest of cheapskates. But it's worth it. We've almost doubled the number of books on our shelves (on a rotating basis, of course).
At times, I feel a bit disconcerted that our tax dollars are paying for my version of Netflix. Books are justifiable. Arguably, literacy contributes to society in ways that cannot always be measured but which are undeniable. Come on, though. I don't see how watching the third season of Stargate: Atlantis this week is going to help either Tim or me improve humanity.

My baby sister's turning 22.

Six months ago, my younger sister Jill moved in with our family. Have you ever tried living with a 21-year-old? Sure, I lived with dozens of them, when I was 21 myself. Most of them were mission companions with whom I had barrels of fun. Except when we both thought we were right about something. Or when it was time to clean the apartment. The fact is, most 21 year-olds are self-centered. And that's to be expected. Not Jill.

Jill played with my children daily, washed her dishes, tidied the house, helped with dinner and put up with my demanding, opinionated self. Our lives were pretty much uninterrupted by her presence in our home. She considered our needs before her own (perhaps a little too much?) and we all miss having her around to swing the kids around, play Settlers, keep us up late talking, and take pics of our entire family.

Jill's been gone for over two months now. I hadn't taken the opportunity to get it down on paper, but it was fun having Jill around. I couldn't have hand-picked a sister more different than me, and I must admit, that is a good thing. Happy 22nd birthday!

Hal-i-toh-sis

Confession: one of my greatest pet peeves is bad breath. Early in our marriage while living in Utah, Tim knew that if he wanted any lip action on a particular night, he'd best avoid a carne asada burrito from Beto's. Guacamole is great and all, but I'd just as soon barf before I'd kiss someone who'd just ingested it.

I'm afraid that in recent days I've become somewhat hypocritical in my distaste for mouth odors. You see, I have developed a case myself. What can I do? I mean, besides brushing my teeth the usual two times a day...

Please help.

Anna's first talk.

Today Anna gave her first talk in Primary. She spent about 50% of the time trying to muster the courage to speak into the microphone. That translated into a very, very long talk. Once she got started, she was stellar. Yesterday I was feeling a bit overwhelmed by all the lessons I had hanging over my head (Primary, Anna's talk, and Joy School) so I turned the responsibility of handling Anna's talk over to my sweet husband, who readily accepted.
I indulged in a power nap while he whipped out an excellent 3 minute presentation on the topic, "Jesus is our Savior", complete with object lesson and lots of pictures. He also assisted her in giving the talk so that I could sit and keep my primary class in order. It might seem like a trifle, but it really took a load off. How blessed I am to have him.

Mandatory evacuation.

We all know the no-nos of drinking bathwater. It's filled with all sorts of bacteria that used to rest on your own body (or, in my kids' cases, your sister's body). May I add to the list: dead skin, hair, microscopic bits of fecal matter, and soap. But I discovered another potential hazard associated with this disgusting habit, which I've found myself discouraging less forcefully with each child I witness practicing it. (Sue me, I'm getting tired in my old age.)
Did you know that drinking bathwater can induce vomiting? Well, at least it did for Rachel tonight. We've experienced poop in the bathtub multiple times, up until Lily was potty-trained, but this? This was another matter. Anna and I both started gagging before I could usher the kids into the other bathroom to get clean, again. What a stench. I think I will have to be more vigilant next time Rachel raises the plastic watering can to her mouth while taking a bath...

Small town girl?

This past week we went to the Boise Art Museum. A daring adventure, on my part, as I took my three young children with me. I prepped the girls ahead of time with the usual "look don't touch, keep your voice down and walk slowly" speech and was pleasantly surprised at how remarkably well they heeded my counsel. It didn't hurt to have the museum docents following us in droves as we entered and exited each gallery. It's as if they all went on red alert as soon as we had paid our admission fee. I enjoyed asking the girls various questions to get them to analyze the paintings and sculptures but most amusing of all was when I asked them which piece was their favorite and they both responded something to the effect of, "I liked this one because it's pink." But then again, they are 4, 3, and 1.

I've been to a variety of museums in multiple cities (and countries) with exquisite and famous works of art. I can even recall almost getting emotional upon entering a particular gallery at the Chicago Institute of Art when I spotted American Gothic from across the room. I don't even like that painting in particular, but it was kind of the culmination of an entire day of viewing piece after piece that I had studied in my high school art history class. It was much like taking a trip back in time. For anyone who enjoys art, viewing it in person beats studying it from a textbook by a long shot. And I'm no connoisseur.

Our trip to the Boise Art Museum paled in comparison, from an art perspective. But I loved that we could tackle the whole place in less than an hour. I loved that we didn't have to wait in any lines. I loved that, when my kids had tired of keeping their hands to themselves and acting civil, they could wander off to the children's hands-on exhibit and explore to their hearts content. I loved that it took me only fifteen minutes to drive back home during rush hour traffic!

I realized, during that fifteen minute drive home, that I have become a small town girl of sorts. Me, born in New York City, raised (partly) in Hong Kong. Me, the person who set off to Boston at age eighteen not knowing anything about the city but wanting an excitement that I thought the West could not offer. Silly old me.

I still love traveling, I still love big cities and even the mere thought of New York awakens something in me. However, I've discovered that the simple life rather suits me. I don't intend to go out and milk any cows anytime soon, but it's refreshing to bask in my surroundings and just feel grateful for the stage of life I'm enjoying, the people with whom I get to enjoy it, and the environment that provides such a great backdrop for my early mothering years. Heck, I might even go out and start my own "I heart Boise" t-shirt-making company.