80 degrees last Saturday, snow today. It is May, right? Sure am glad I planted those tomatoes... hmph.
The cold didn't stop Anna from scoring her first and only goal of the soccer season today. She's been a great defender, but it was fun to see her experience the thrill of scoring.
Lily stuck a bead up her nose earlier this week. Tim found out when she was frantically complaining that "it feels like there's a bead stuck in my nose!" Well, how 'bout that?
Our tenants moved out of our rental house. Now begins the most stressful week of the year as we work feverishly to ready it for the next family. Last time we had the luxury of having my in-laws take the kids on a trip to Utah for a few days. And still Tim was there every night until at least 11 p.m. This year, no such luck. We're upgrading to hardwood floors and swtiching out the linoleum in the laundry and bathrooms. Should be exciting!
Great scripture reading lately. We've been studying Samuel the Lamanite as a family. Personally? 2nd Nephi, Old Testament (Deuteronomy) and General Conference talks simultaneously. Loads of insight.
Planted two peach trees behind our property line, 25 strawberry plants and the rest of our summer herbs and vegetables. Ah, I love everything about gardening - teaching my kids to work and love fresh fruits and vegetables, saving money on expensive produce, pulling together a salad at the last minute, enjoying the sun... I could go on and on.
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Monday, May 17, 2010
In time for mother's day.
There's just something about cut flowers that makes my heart sing. These bloomed just before we arrived home from a trip on Mother's Day weekend. I couldn't resist bringing them in. Somehow, I think it makes me feel like I didn't waste any money buying flowers for myself. Nevermind the fact that I ordered them from a catalog, planted them, fertilized and watered them. They're free! Right? Well, at least Tim thinks so. Clever me.
Girls vs. boys.
Yesterday the speaker in church mentioned that he had raised four girls. My ears perked up a little. He then said that his girls had since married and blessed him and his wife with many grandsons, who, he noted, were quite different from the girls he had raised. He noted that, while cleaning up after the grandkids left their house, he would find little knobs twisted off of lamps, things taken apart (which weren't meant for such things) and other little tokens of destruction strewn throughout their abode. He attributed these behaviors to gender differences, which is a valid point, as boys are typically more physical and girls emotional.
I chuckled to myself and looked over at my husband, who was thinking the exact same thing as I. You see, we've got both physical and emotional here in our house full of sugar and spice and everything nice. The oldest has pooped in the floor vents, stuffed Costco-sized vitamin bottles down the toilets, and, most recently given herself treadmill burns up and down her arms all in the name of curiosity.
The second, though not inherently destructive as the first, channels it all into her emotions, and, while barfing as our extended family enjoyed a trip up to the mountains last weekend proclaimed loudly that she had "mountain sickness" and that she "had to get out of there" because it was "in her brain". Crazy. Just crazy. She also has a "knack" for domesticating worms and roly poly bugs.
And now onto number three. Well, she has a temper. The kind that involves hitting and kicking. And pushing and scratching and calling people stupid. And an occasional bite. I dare any boy her age to take her on.
Number four? Well, she's just perfect. But it's too soon to tell with her. However, she has already earned first prize for messiest eater. Yep, this one does not mind getting her hands dirty (or her face, or hair, for that matter).
My point is, some people assume that raising young boys is more difficult than girls. I beg to differ. Though I will admit that when we have boys over to play, it takes the energy level in my house up a notch. But only a notch. In my limited experience, girls are tough. But I'll take 'em. I'm hoping that all the hard work will pay off when they are married and still call home to talk to me. A mother-daughter relationship is priceless. And I've got four of them.
I chuckled to myself and looked over at my husband, who was thinking the exact same thing as I. You see, we've got both physical and emotional here in our house full of sugar and spice and everything nice. The oldest has pooped in the floor vents, stuffed Costco-sized vitamin bottles down the toilets, and, most recently given herself treadmill burns up and down her arms all in the name of curiosity.
The second, though not inherently destructive as the first, channels it all into her emotions, and, while barfing as our extended family enjoyed a trip up to the mountains last weekend proclaimed loudly that she had "mountain sickness" and that she "had to get out of there" because it was "in her brain". Crazy. Just crazy. She also has a "knack" for domesticating worms and roly poly bugs.
And now onto number three. Well, she has a temper. The kind that involves hitting and kicking. And pushing and scratching and calling people stupid. And an occasional bite. I dare any boy her age to take her on.
Number four? Well, she's just perfect. But it's too soon to tell with her. However, she has already earned first prize for messiest eater. Yep, this one does not mind getting her hands dirty (or her face, or hair, for that matter).
My point is, some people assume that raising young boys is more difficult than girls. I beg to differ. Though I will admit that when we have boys over to play, it takes the energy level in my house up a notch. But only a notch. In my limited experience, girls are tough. But I'll take 'em. I'm hoping that all the hard work will pay off when they are married and still call home to talk to me. A mother-daughter relationship is priceless. And I've got four of them.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
The power of two.
My exercise regime has hit the five-week mark. I wish I could say that I have lost weight waking up at 5:45 every morning, but I'm parked about 15 pounds heavier than I was when I got married, which, as we all know, is an overused, if not unrealistic yard stick. 15 pounds heavier than my wedding day, but strangely, one size smaller than when I began this habit.
I owe it all to the friends who agreed to sacrifice sleep for pain. Every morning I curse the alarm clock, only to roll out of bed, knowing that someone is counting on me to be there and, heaven forbid, I be the one to slack off. Yep, self-motivation is virtually non-existent for me. I try to shake up the routine a bit, alternating elliptical, treadmill and stationary bike with an occasional weight here and there. The first time I stepped on the treadmill, I ran (okay, jogged) a mere ten minutes before throwing in the towel. I'm up to 20 minutes of running, er jogging but at half a mile per hour faster than before. I have no plans to make a runner out of myself, but it's nice to know that I can spend the majority of my 35 minutes on the treadmill going faster than 4 miles per hour. Next month I'll start swimming two mornings a week. That, I can do.
This is the first time in 7 years that exercise has risen up the ranks of my priorities to a five-times per week habit. And it feels good. Here are the few benefits I've noticed from having a regular workout regime:
1. I feel a spring in my step and less drudgery at performing physical feats on behalf of my children (like towing 3 of them behind me on a bike to and from school). By the end of our trip to the zoo yesterday, I was pushing all four children on our sit-and-stand stroller and didn't even break a sweat.
2. I'm taking more showers (much to my husband's delight - I was on a 36-hour schedule before, creating hygiene-anxiety for him).
3. I am ready for the day before my children. It's tough to say which I prefer, waking to a blaring alarm clark at 5:45 or to a host of children petitioning me for breakfast at 7:15. Hey, where's the world with no alarm clocks, dozens of fully self-sufficient children(whom I did not have to carry in my belly, or give birth to) and husbands minus the built-in earplugs?
4. More energy to meet the challenges of the day. And less. But I'll take the fatigue resulting from sleep deprivation over the kind that comes from being a lazy bum. Anyday.
5. Greater selectivity with regards to food intake. Knowing that it took me about 40 minutes to burn a mere 314 calories, I'm in no hurry to hit the treadmill for double that time to work off a slice of cheesecake. No sir.
And here's where I should conclude my post with something insightful or witty. But you'll just have to settle for identical before and after pictures of my thighs. Or not.
I owe it all to the friends who agreed to sacrifice sleep for pain. Every morning I curse the alarm clock, only to roll out of bed, knowing that someone is counting on me to be there and, heaven forbid, I be the one to slack off. Yep, self-motivation is virtually non-existent for me. I try to shake up the routine a bit, alternating elliptical, treadmill and stationary bike with an occasional weight here and there. The first time I stepped on the treadmill, I ran (okay, jogged) a mere ten minutes before throwing in the towel. I'm up to 20 minutes of running, er jogging but at half a mile per hour faster than before. I have no plans to make a runner out of myself, but it's nice to know that I can spend the majority of my 35 minutes on the treadmill going faster than 4 miles per hour. Next month I'll start swimming two mornings a week. That, I can do.
This is the first time in 7 years that exercise has risen up the ranks of my priorities to a five-times per week habit. And it feels good. Here are the few benefits I've noticed from having a regular workout regime:
1. I feel a spring in my step and less drudgery at performing physical feats on behalf of my children (like towing 3 of them behind me on a bike to and from school). By the end of our trip to the zoo yesterday, I was pushing all four children on our sit-and-stand stroller and didn't even break a sweat.
2. I'm taking more showers (much to my husband's delight - I was on a 36-hour schedule before, creating hygiene-anxiety for him).
3. I am ready for the day before my children. It's tough to say which I prefer, waking to a blaring alarm clark at 5:45 or to a host of children petitioning me for breakfast at 7:15. Hey, where's the world with no alarm clocks, dozens of fully self-sufficient children(whom I did not have to carry in my belly, or give birth to) and husbands minus the built-in earplugs?
4. More energy to meet the challenges of the day. And less. But I'll take the fatigue resulting from sleep deprivation over the kind that comes from being a lazy bum. Anyday.
5. Greater selectivity with regards to food intake. Knowing that it took me about 40 minutes to burn a mere 314 calories, I'm in no hurry to hit the treadmill for double that time to work off a slice of cheesecake. No sir.
And here's where I should conclude my post with something insightful or witty. But you'll just have to settle for identical before and after pictures of my thighs. Or not.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
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