Happy Birthday to me!

My birthday was last week.  I was in San Diego all week, and Jeff pulled off a great birthday surprise while I was gone.  Here is a sneak peak:

I’ll post more pictures when the finishing touches are done, but let me just say that I LOVE IT!  I was hoping for a hammock, and I got a kitchen!

Meanwhile… I was sinking my teeth into this birthday beauty:

 

My sister Kathy was our very brave hostess in San Diego.  She put 37 candles in a still-warm- from- the-oven cake and lighted them.  Before I could get enough breath to blow them out, they had all MELTED into the cake!  There are scorch marks on the frosting where the flames were still burning after the wax disappeared!  It was hilarious!  We ate the cake anyway, and were all still picking wax out of our teeth the next day!

Thanks, Kathy, for making my most memorable cake ever!

Rock Star

Today Jonah and I were watching a show on PBS kids, and one of the characters asked him what he wanted to be when he grows up.  “An astronaut!”  He shouted to the TV.

That got him thinking.  “Mom, what do you want to be when you grow up?”

That’s an easy one for me.  “I chose to become a mommy, so I could stay with you all day.”

He rolled his eyes.  “No, Mom.  You have to BE something!”

“But I am something.  I’m a mommy!”

Since I obviously didn’t get it, he decided to choose a career for me.

“I know.  You should be a rock star.  Because you could do that and still be a mommy at the same time.”

That guy is always thinking.

Bedtime

I just had a moment the other night that I wanted to freeze. We had a fun family home evening, so everyone was in an exceptionally good mood. Teeth were brushed, prayers said, and the boys were waiting for me to come read to them.

I heard them in their room laughing hysterically. Squealing with delight (a very cute, very un-masculine squeal) over the MadLib they had created. Every adjective was stinky, mushy, smelly, ugly… you get the idea. And every verb was toot, poop, burp, etc. So of course it made for a fabulous story to read back!

In the other room I was putting Simon to bed. He had finished his bottle and snuggled into my neck to burp and spit up on it… as per tradition. Then I rubbed his back and sang him a song. In the middle of “As I Have Loved You” he reached up and grabbed onto my nose, hoping for a honk.

Snuggling and singing to a baby, boys giggling together in their beds, and girls with their noses buried in their books… that’s my idea of a perfect moment.

Oatmeal

 

This morning I announced that we were having oatmeal for breakfast.  I received a less-than-enthusiastic response.

“Eeewww!  I am NOT eating that!  It’s all mushy!  Can’t you make me something else?”

It sounded very similar to the response I got on Friday, when I had made rice, sugar and cinnamon.

As the hairs on my neck began to prickle, signaling the beginning of a rampage about ingratitude, I had a sudden flashback to my childhood.

I was the child, and my mom came in to wake me up in the morning.  She turned on the light, which was annoyingly bright, and started singing an annoyingly cheerful song.

“Doodah (good) morning, dear Christi, doodah morning to you!  I am happy to see you, because I love you!”

The first words out of my mouth, from under the pillow, were always  a grumbly “What’s for breakfast?”  If it was something good, like muffins and orange julius, then I would get out of bed without further complaint. 

If, however, she had the nerve to make something like oatmeal, I felt I had the right to be grumpy all morning.

I have come to appreciate the sacrifice that my mom made every morning.  I, because of her example, get up before my children every morning.  I allow myself enough time to wake up, do my morning scripture study, and prepare a hot breakfast.  Then I wake everyone else up by playing Hymns on the piano.

But I’m afraid that is where my sainthood ends.  If anyone has the audacity to complain about what I’ve made… happy, cheerful mom is done.

I guess I have a ways to go before I am as gracious as my mother.

A dizzying intellect

Do you remember that line from The Princess Bride?  “Truly, you have a dizzying intellect.”  I find myself saying that to Jonah frequently.

How else do you respond to this:

“I know why you need water in your throat, Mom.  You need it to protect the blood in your throat.  Because if you didn’t protect it, then the people could see it, right?”

Huh???

Jonah says random things like that to me all the time!

The other day he was riding home from school in my friend Crystal’s car.  She had all of her kids with her, and was giving one of the boys a hard time for getting a frowny face on his behavior chart that day.  After listening to the exchange, Jonah began asking questions.

Jonah: “Why did he get a frowny face?”

Crystal:  “I guess he had a hard time staying in his seat today.”

Jonah:  “Doesn’t he understand the plan of Jesus?”

Crystal: “Umm… uh… I don’t really think that is the problem.  I think he just had a hard time staying in his seat.”

(At this point, I’m sure Crystal was very impressed that not only had Jonah learned about Jesus’ plan for us, but was capable of applying it to good behavior in school!)

Jonah, after a pause: “I don’t really understand the plan of Jesus, either.  Do you think it has something to do with safety?”

Holes

Caleb and his friends (the other boys that roam the neighborhood) have spent the last several days digging.  Every day they race to get their chores and schoolwork done so they can hurry outside to work on the hole.

They have grand visions… it’s going to be a giant underground fort, with tunnels leading from room to room.  It will be completely hidden, with wood re-enforcing the whole thing so it won’t cave in on them.  It’s even going to have a bathroom and “booby traps” at the entrance!

Yesterday, a bunch of dirty, sweaty boys came in for a drink, and then headed into Caleb’s room to count his money.  They had figured out that the work would go much faster if they could afford to pay for some help.  They decided they’d  try to recruit Nathan, the biggest, strongest boy they know.  (He’s a 15 year old that lives nearby.) 

I heard Sam say “Dude!  He’s gonna want to dig, just so he can have a room in the hole!”

“Yeah, probably.  But we better take the money just in case,” somebody reasoned.  “First we’ll ask him for free.  If he doesn’t want to, then we’ll offer him $5.  If that doesn’t work, we might have to pay him all$9.”

I was surprised to see that Nathan didn’t accept the job offer.  But they did bring home Jesse, a 13 year old who would help dig - just to be nice.

I’ve heard so much about this hole that yesterday I made the trek to the back acre to check it out.  So far, it is about 2 feet deep and 3 feet wide.  This ought to keep them busy for quite a while!

A Dirty House

There are some very real advantages to having a house as messy as mine is.

I can wake up every morning and think, “What do I feel like doing today?” And my options are endless.

Am I in a floor-mopping mood? Those results would be very satisfying. Feel like doing some laundry? I can find an endless supply. Does dusting peak my interest? That could keep me occupied ALL day! AND it would be ready to do again tomorrow!

Straightening, scouring, organizing… it’s all there at my fingertips.

Plus… if ever I choose to take the day off to read an entire book, (which I admittedly do, on occasion,) no worries. All of those chores will be waiting right where I left them. They can’t really get much worse, and they certainly won’t get any better while I’m gone!

Surely you can see the genius in my housekeeping strategy!

Now, what to do with my day tomorrow… scour the bathroom? Clean out the fridge? Re-organize the pantry? I’ll have to wait to see which mood strikes me in the morning!