It's Here!!

Ain't it purdy?

It's been a long six months, but we’ve finally replaced our piano! I love it. It's a Williams Symphony Elite Digital Piano. And while I can't understand why it took the company an entire month and a half to deliver it to our house, I'm thrilled its finally here. And it fits (almost) perfectly into that little space behind our couch.


I’ve already pulled out all our old piano books and have been plunking away. (It’s lucky for my family that it came with headphones—they won’t have to listen to all my wrong notes).

The kids are naturally much more interested in the box it came in.

R.I.P.

Poor Hammy. It all started yesterday when I noticed she was breathing really raggedly and walking in a strange, cramped way--almost as if her back was injured. I just made sure she had enough food and water and kept an eye on her--but I was fearing the inevitable. Those little Russian hamsters only live for about 2 years, and Hammy was at least a year and a half.

Today I woke up and didn't hear or see anything going on in her cage. I just couldn't bear to look, and neither could Steven. Finally, this evening, Steven searched her cage and found her dead.

I feel a bit sad and guilty. We weren't the best pet owners, and I'm sure the boys were probably too rough with her and that's what led to her early demise--if not from injury, than from pure stress and fright. They're just too young for that small of an animal. I think if we were to get another pet, it would have to be one big enough to hold it's own against the kids.

I'm not sure what I'll tell the boys tomorrow. I guess I'll deal with that later.

A Modicum of Success

Well, I’ve lost ten pounds and 3 ½ inches so far. That’s good, right? Unfortunately, that’s only a small fraction of what I need to get rid of. But who cares, WHOO-HOO!

A few upsides to my doing Weightwatchers---

1)I don’t hate myself at the end of the day due to unwarranted (and constant) pigging out.

2)I’ve stopped avoiding my scale, and we now have a stable relationship.

3)I don’t feel sorry for myself all the time, because I just eat what I want but less of it. I mean, I try to make better choices, but no celery sticks and tofu for me, thank you. And I even have enough wiggle room to go out to eat on the weekends once or (if I’m sensible) twice.

4)Being “weighed-in” at the meetings is a big incentive for me for some reason. I guess having a non-partisan person telling me “Hey, you’re getting skinnier!” is just cool beans. And the meetings themselves are pretty good because they get me mentally “in the zone.” I need a dose of that every week.

5)It’s working. Dang-it, its working and nothing else ever really has. Or let me rephrase, plenty of things have worked in the past, but I’ve never stuck to it for this length of time. (Except before my wedding…but that was just straight-up bootcamp and I had some major incentive).

6)Everything I ever tried before was just a means to an end, but this seems like something I could live with indefinitely.

7)The more I work out, the more points I get to splurge. So I’m finally working out and seeing some (tangible) benefits. (And I get a weird, smug feeling of righteousness if I DON’T use these splurge points).

8)I can fit into some pants that I wasn’t able to wear in November. Rock on. Unfortunately, my jeans don’t fit anymore and I LOVE my jeans. But again, who cares? WHOO-HOO!

THE KING OF POP IS DEAD

I have to say I’m unreasonably upset about Michael Jackson’s death. I have no idea why. I guess it all has to do with my childhood, and how when “Thriller” came on, I ran screaming to the TV, only to hide my eyes through all the scary part (because seriously, I’m a big chicken—I mean, the movie “Gremlins” was too scary for me…but I digress). I remember how stinkin’ awesome I thought the “Beat It” video was, and how I somehow felt vicariously cool when watching it.

Just look how many “Best Ever” songs he’s made---

Best Song Ever: Beat It

Best Ever Love song: I’ll Be There

Best Ever Halloween and Zombie Dance Song: Thriller (I mean, duh!)

Best Ever “Lovin’” Song: Rock With You

Best Ever Christmas Remake: Santa Claus Is Comin’ to Town

Don’t laugh, but I also used to get a fuzzy, warm feeling while watching the “It’s Black, It’s White” video back in the day. Kind of a whole “We are the World” sentiment, you know? I wasn’t a big fan in his later years, but I guess I just feel bad that he died so young and so weird, especially after having such a fun and bright persona as a child. It’s just a sad story.

Stevie Swings (um...on a Swingset, that is)

Stevie can literally spend hours at a time swinging on the swingset. I hear him go outside, and then look out the window a million years later and there he is, swinging his heart out.


He also tends to be a bit of a ham when it comes to taking pictures (or couldn't you tell?)



I really think that he must get some real thinking done out there...you know...the way some people do in the john.

Actual Conversation with David

Some of you may know that I am woefully late on beginning potty-training with David. Part of it is that he's just so gosh-darn sneaky. Case in point:

ME: David, are you poopy? Do we need to change your diaper?
DAVID: Noooooooo

After a brief pause...
DAVID: Something smells BAD!
ME: Really? What do you think it is?
DAVID: A DINOSAUR!
ME: I don't think so. Are you sure you're not poopy?
DAVID: (Runs quickly out of the room).

Just Trying to Keep Up

Accurate record, Jenny. That requires you actually writing things once in awhile.

Saturday we went to a really great birthday party (complete with slip-in-slide and oh yes, I did partake). I swear I have more fun at those kids’ birthday parties than my actual kids do. It’s my only chance for adult socialization. You know…where I can talk without using excessive inflection in my voice. It’s nice.

Sunday was Father’s Day. I had been saving my cleaning money for about a month in order to buy “Guitar Hero” for Steven. It was a big hit. I can really see how you could get addicted to that game. It’s so idiotic and yet so fun.


We invited my dad, Adam and Jessica over that night, and Steven cooked up some insanely delicious barbecued ribs. (Thank you, Emmaly, for the recipe!) They were to die for, and I think I might have gained back 10 lbs just smelling their delicious aroma. Steven is an absolutely amazing cook (not to mention the best daddy in the universe).

As for me, well, I guess I just haven’t really wanted to write a lot lately. I’ve been rather over-obsessed with not being able to get pregnant, and I’ve been having kind of a hard week. This is my 12th month of nothing, which gives us the official title of “infertile.” Secondary infertility—I do already have my two beautiful boys --but it’s been pretty heart-breaking, nonetheless. I can’t remember crying like this in a long time. Like I said… a rough week.

If only our insurance paid for ANYTHING having to do with infertility, we could AT LEAST have some diagnostics done. But seeing as how the fertility specialist gave us an estimate of around $5000 out-of-pocket (JUST for the diagnostics, mind you), I just don’t see that happening any time soon.

Oh well. Back to trusting in God and focusing on other things. As if that were possible.

A Few (unrelated) Things...

1) Hammy escaped yet again. Not once, but twice. On Saturday, David decided to dump her cage upside-down in order to find her (that poor, traumatized hamster...I'm pretty sure we're turning her into a pyschopath). My husband, being the amazing man that he is, found the teeny little monster, and through an intricate recapturing strategy managed to get Hammy into her hamster ball while I cleaned out her cage.

But I guess we didn't screw the lid on tight enough, because a few minutes later Steven came in the room with the hamster ball--Empty. I was almost certain that she'd escaped forever into the labrynth of our inner walls, but suprisingly enough, Steven found her AGAIN! This time she was hiding in the boys' costumes (that were at the time strewn across the floor due to some prior heavy-duty play-acting). So freedom eluded once again. ...Dang it. I was rootin' for you, Hamwich.

2) While I was driving to the YMCA tonight, I saw not one, but THREE people riding freakin' HORSES down the street. Now if you're from the sticks this may not seem like an extraordinary occurance, but when you're in a relatively closely packed suburb where cars are constantly lining the streets, it's really quite a surprise to see a few equestrains meandering down the sidewalk. Why in the world would you want to ride your horse down a residential street, anyway?

3) Lastly, surprise of all surprises, Stevie received the REVERENCE AWARD in Primary last Sunday. It's the award where if you get it, you get to stand up at the front before Sacrament Meeting and fold your arms (reminding everyone else to be reverent).

This was really a major event, seeing as how Stevie is seldom reverent at anything he does, and especially not in Primary. But he had a good day. I was so dang proud of him! When they called out his name, he yelled out "YES!' in his least reverent voice. Tres Grundbergesque, no?

Here's his official award.

Here's his little prize (an origami dragon) made by our primary pianist.

Hair Trauma

I have extremely thin hair. Seriously. I was bald as an egg until around 3 years old, and before that my mom used to tape bows to my bare head. As I got older, my hair grew somewhat reluctantly into what it is today (I actually only have about 100 hairs on my head that I fluff to their absolute fullest extent every morning with a hairdryer). I fully expect to be one of those little old ladies with translucent hair through which you can see their scalp.

I just had a conversation with Steven about this:

Me: When I get old, and my hair starts to fall out, can I wear a wig without you telling everyone?

Steve: Sure.

Me: Good

Steve: That is, until that fateful day when the wig comically gets stuck on a tree branch, or blown off by the wind in a public place, like say, a church picnic.

Me: Yeah, but by that time, I’ll be a cute little old lady, and it will just be a cute little incident of the crazy, cute little old lady. I figure it won’t happen until I’m around 60-65ish.

Steven: Okay. I’ll pencil it in.

I also happen to have very sparse eyelashes and practically no eyebrows (or rather, I have eyebrows, but they’re so light-colored that it just looks like I have a gargantuan forehead). The upside is that being the hairless beast that I am, I seldom need to shave my legs.

Unfortunately, having such thin hair means that my scalp is COMPLETELY scorched today, seeing as how one seldom thinks to slather sunblock on their hair part at the swimming pool.

Kemah Sprayground

We went with some church folks to the Kemah Sprayground down on the boardwalk today. The boys were adorable. They were running around like crazy people, and consequently had a few face plants (and rear plants). It gets kinda slippery out there!

Here's David waiting for water to come shooting out of the ground...


Here's David getting shot in the face by the anticipated water:


Doesn't Stevie look like a little mini-Adonis in this picture? He's growing up so fast!


And we had to get a picture with this random shark

(very reminiscent of Jabber Jaw, by the way).

We took a few minutes to look out over the water:


And we were rewarded by seeing a mother duck with all her ducklings!
It was pretty fun until Stevie got some sunscreen in his eye. Poor little guy--he could barely open his right eye, and it made his face break out in an angry rash. Both boys were pretty much done after that. But we had a nice time with our friends while it lasted.

Good Grief

David successfully melted his toy hammer in our bottom oven. I turned it on without realizing he'd stashed it there. Just one of the downsides to having dual ovens, I guess. (It sure gave dinner an interesting aroma).

Strangely enough, he still wanted to play with it in it's new mutated form, so I guess it's all good

Incidentally, can anyone tell me how to change my blog background? I have some really cute digi scrap paper, but I've totally forgotten how to change it.

The Week So Far

Man, did I have a bad day. I just had an unexplainable black cloud following me around. I’m still waiting for it to leave. Oh well, while I’m waiting, I thought I’d do some back-up blogging.

MONDAY- I went to the YMCA with all our swim stuff and a cooler full of lunch, only to be told that the pool wouldn’t be open until NEXT Monday. Dang it! My kids were so disappointed that I went straight out to Walmart and bought them a kiddie pool with a slide and a spraying zebra head. They liked it for about 2 minutes.

TUESDAY- I drove down to Galveston to have lunch with my Dad, Steven, Adam, Baby Jack and Joey at Cici’s pizza. (And believe it or not, I didn’t even go over my WW points!) It was so much fun. My brothers just crack me up when we’re all together. Afterwards I took the kids to see the big fancy building “where Daddy works,” and to show them off to all of Steve’s coworkers. Then it was off to my brother Adam’s house to let the kids play in their kiddie pool while Adam and I got caught up on things. I just love my brother. He’s a peach.

That evening I went to Enrichment, which despite the ravenous mosquitoes and sweat pouring down my face in buckets, was really quite fun. We chatted for awhile and even played an impromptu game of softball—which cemented my suspicion that I suck at all sports.

WEDNESDAY- I got my hair cut. Isn’t it cute? Kudos, Amber!


THURSDAY- well, here’s what happened. I was supposed to go and clean my dad’s house today. But after getting back from the YMCA, I just felt AWFUL. I felt inexplicably mean, mad, weepy, psychotic— all completely without warning. So not only did I not clean my dad’s house, I also cancelled my scheduled beach date with Joey.

Afterwards, I saw not one, but TWO COCKROACHES go WALTZING across my living room floor like they owned the place. Then and there I decided that my house obviously needed a good scouring (that was naturally after my cockroach killing rampage). So I cleaned my house like it’s never been cleaned before (I felt like dousing everything with bleach and then setting the whole thing on fire---but then again, I’ve had enough of the whole fire thing).

Cleaning my house was weirdly cathartic, so I ended up driving down to Galveston and making dinner for Joey and my dad, and we had a lovely time. (Steven had a move to help with, so I knew he wouldn’t miss us). But now I have to clean my dad’s house tomorrow instead. Yuck.

Our Bedtime Routine

After putting the toys away and cleaning up the room, we kneel in a circle for family prayer and hold hands. Sometimes the boys use this opportunity to try and covertly make each other laugh while Mom and Dad have their eyes closed, but they usually get a hand yank or dirty look if we catch them.

After prayer, we give kisses and hugs. Usually Stevie comes to me first and David goes to Steven first. Stevie will curl up in my arms and commence “baby-mode,” while I totally give in and cradle him. David likes to give kisses (on both cheeks—he’s very European). He first gives “little” hugs and kisses (where he barely touches you) and then gives “BIG” hugs and kisses, (where he squeezes your eyeballs out and takes your face off with the suction of his kiss).

Then, Mama & Daddy start the “get-into-bed” countdown, saying “TEN—clap,clap,clap—NINE—clap, clap, clap” and so forth until the kids are in their beds. After that, Daddy usually does “rocket milk”, and blasts off with the kids’ sippy cups of milk. He always gives the wrong cup to the wrong kid first, after which hilarious laughter ensues until corrected.

Lastly, we say our “I love yous” and Mom or Dad says, “Get ready for oouuuttterrr SPACE!” and then we turn off the light (our kids have those glow-in-the-dark stars and moons stickers on their walls). Sometimes, we’ll say “outer-SPAGHETTI” or “outer-SPOON”, and the kids will laugh and yell out “Nooooo, SPACE!”

Afterwards, Steven and I usually dork around on our computers until one or the other kids (inevitably) wants to go to the bathroom, have more milk, or starts screaming from a night terror. That’s usually our cue to hit the hay.