Bad Habits and Best Outcomes

I have a bad habit.

Okay....I have more than one, but for this story's sake we are only going to talk about one.

I have a bad habit...that deals with my husband's wallet. And no, it is not that I spend all of his hard earned money either. Although, that may qualify under the bad habit heading too, but we are not talking about that bad habit, we are talking about my bad habit of washing my husband's wallet. If I had a dollar for every time I have exercised this bad habit it would make up for all of his money I've frivolously spent.

Seriously. It's that bad.

I know- "JUST CHECK THE POCKETS!" I know, I know, I KNOW!!! And I do...most of the time. Then there is the rest of the time where you have a mountain of laundry staring you in the face and precious little time to make that mountain transform into clean, folded, ready to put away laundry, so you just start plowing though the loads as fast as you can; there is no time to lose in checking pockets. And then there are days like today.

I checked. I promise. I really did. But when the wallet hunt started I had an awful feeling of where it was going to end up. But I checked! I removed keys, tissues (gross! I might add), and even a hefty chunk of cash that I even honestly returned. I couldn't have missed the wallet filled with all of the receipts from Richard's recent business trips!? All of the receipts that have to be faxed in order for his corporate card to be reimbursed? No, I wouldn't have washed them, because I checked.

A peek into the washing machine told me different.

It looked like Mardi Gras with all of the confetti that littered the damp clothes- a confetti that consisted of receipt paper. I wanted to crawl under the washer and co-habitate with the dust bunnies that undoubtedly live there and I could have, since I felt about that tall. I was numb. I didn't know what to do. Before being pulled away with a call for work Richard put his arm around me and told me it wasn't my fault.

I continued to pick out  pieces trying to find any that were big enough to be pieced together. Unfortunately, there weren't many. I felt awful. I felt sick. Richard came back and the arm went back around me as he quietly told me to stop what I was doing, that things would be okay, and that he loved me. Then he left to run an errand that prompted the search for the wallet in the first place.

I changed over the laundry and started dinner while confessing, via phone, the sin I had committed to my mom. Mid confession we were interrupted by the beep of call waiting- it was Richard inviting me out to dinner. Well, I figured that even sinners have to eat, so I readily accepted and ended up at Magleby's where we had a lovely dinner complete with creme brulee for dessert.

Now he could have been upset and ranted and raved, or worse, given me the silent treatment, which only would've have amplified the horrific failure I already felt that I was, but he didn't. Instead, we had an amazing evening. He felt bad that I felt bad. He realized that a true mistake was made and that true remorse was felt. And it was enough.

It may not be enough to pay his corporate card, but we'll worry about that when the bill comes. But for now, it is still enough.

What Sexy Is

I don't know about you,

but this...

 ...is what I find incredibly sexy. 

Dear Mom, My Mother's Day Apology

(The guilty parties responsible for me - my parents.)

Dear Mom,

I know this is late, so there is the first thing to apologize for. But this weekend was...crazy. I know only you could understand that. I also know you believe in  "better late than never." So here it is late.

(Oh, and it's not an apology for screwing up dinner yesterday. But I am really sorry about that too.)

I apologize...
.... for all the times I made you worry needlessly. I now know how it feels.

.... for anytime I was disrespectful and sassed you. I now know how it feels.

.... if I made a mess and didn't clean it up. I now know how it feels.

.... for the times when I didn't obey when you asked me to do something. I now know how it feels.

.... if I ever demanded anything from you when you were so tired from working all day. I now know how it feels.

.... if I ever begged for something, that you really wanted to give me, but couldn't. I now know how it feels.

.... if I changed my clothes multiple times a day creating bigger piles of laundry for you. I now know how it feels.

.... if I ever got frustrated with you for not knowing how to help me with my homework. I now know how it feels.

.... when I got upset when you were only trying to help me. I now know how it feels.

.... if you ever sacrificed so that I could have or do something that I felt was important. I now know how it feels.

.... if I ever spilled on, tracked mud on, or brushed crumbs onto your freshly mopped floor. I now know how it feels.

I am sorry, truly I am for all of these things, but I will not apologize for growing up, or leaving you to get married, or having four of the most amazing kids of my own to love because..... I now know how it feels to be a mother.

And it is the best feeling in the world.

Happy belated Mother's Day!

I love you.

Spring Marathon: Brides & Baseball

On Friday, April 9th, we had the opportunity to witness Richard's sister, Mary's marriage and sealing in the Manti temple. We are really grateful that she found DJ and for the love and respect he shows her. We couldn't have asked for anyone to love her more and that is a great blessing.  

Unfortunately, that pesky wind from earlier in the week continued to follow me and this time it had a bite to it. It was too cold to stick around the temple grounds after the ceremony to capture any pictures of the wedding party consisting of DJ and Mary's 9 kids (combined) decked out in their red and black finest.... but I will just tell you they were a very handsome looking bunch.

Another reason to not hang around besides the wind, is that our tummies were talking. Since it was going to be hours before the wedding dinner we made a stop at the Malt Shop in Ephraim, for a snack of french fries, onion rings, and shakes- like peanut butter Reese's peanut butter cup, my favorite.

After we all had sufficiently gorged ourselves on french fried fatty goodness, we headed back to Moroni for the ring ceremony, wedding dinner, and eventually, the reception complete with cookie buffet.

But what do you do when you have six families who are an hour or two away from home, dressed in their Sunday best, and have 2 hours to kill before the reception starts?

You play baseball....of course! 

A few locals had challenged our boys to a game, so a few of the adults decided to get in there and help them out. 

It was a blast.

We had fun imagining what the Moronites might be saying about "City Folk" who play baseball in dressy clothes. As we see it, they probably think we are the epitome of awesome and have now started playing baseball in their own church clothes.

I even had a nice hit out behind second base.

It could have been a homerun if I would have slid into home plate.

But I figure there some things you just shouldn't do in a dress.

Congratulations Mary and DJ!

May you have many more happy years together.

Making it Me

Last week Richard came home from work and found me in my usual spot around dinner time- the kitchen. He said hello to the kids and then came to me for his welcome home hug. As I went to move away, he moved in closer and I realized he was trying to stick his hand in the back pocket of my jeans. I wondered if that perhaps Richard, was having some kind of Kitchen Moment of his own. 

My back pockets were a no go since they button shut, so he sighed, pulled away, and walked out of the room. Figuring he was just frustrated with a failed attempt at trying to get frisky, I went back to making dinner.  It wasn't until later that night I found out that some cash had been sneakily slipped into my front pocket and that apparently, my husband is good at the art of distraction . When I asked him about his sly deposit he told me it was my "bonus for being a good wife and mother".  Figuring it is also rude to tell someone that they are delusional, I didn't argue and accepted my bonus.

But what to spend it on?

It is not often that I have a sum of money to spend solely as I wish, so I knew I had to choose wisely. There was one thing in particular that I knew I wanted as much as I needed it, so I made a trip to the appointed store to buy me one of these...

...since mine is the one I have had since I was 8 and now looks like this...

...but they were all sold out. 

Richard had bought me a new little compact set before we moved to Canada, but within the first month of living there they were stolen out of our van.

I hope the thief read them and was called unto repentance.

That or at least, I hope they felt badly they had stolen someone's scriptures! So I am still waiting for and patiently anticipating brand new, unmarked scriptures to read and mark up all the verses in that pertain to my life now, and of course, all of my old favorites to make them mine. Until then I guess I better find the duct tape.

Also, do you remember my friend Julie's purse, the one I loved, but it wasn't me? Well, while I was out and in the shopping mood, bravery struck and with the encouragement of some of my friends through Facebook, I purchased this-

Doesn't it look pretty hanging on my banister? Yeah, I think so too.

I did it! I bought the bag that wasn't me; not in black, not in brown, but in RED!

And I love it.

And just so you know, it has seen the light of day. It doesn't just hang on my banister and I haven't stuffed it in the back of an unused closet never to be seen again, in fact, I have taken it to the store on a number of occasions.

And I even received some compliments.

So maybe it was me after all.

Fast Food Confessional?

Awwww....

Isn't that just sweet?

Except it wasn't meant for me.

Just in case you were wondering.

Which I know some of you were.

 Richard says that he wishes he would have thought of it.

And it is the thought that counts, right?

So I'm pretending.

Kitchen Moments

There are times in my life where I am reminded of how lucky I am to be married to the man I call my husband. Times when I am grateful for his patience while I was a fickle and silly 19 year old girl who was still growing up, and that continued patience as I still have much growing up yet to do. It is during these times when I realize just how much I do love him and why. I call these moments, “kitchen moments”.


They are called kitchen moments because 9.5 times out of 10, that is where they happen. Why the kitchen? Because, as I figure it, the kitchen is where I spend at least 50% of my life. It is where my computer is, my desk and calendar, and of course, the dishes and all those appliances necessary for cooking and preparing food which come in quite handy for sustaining my family’s lives. It is where homework and projects happen; meals, bedtime snacks, and even the morning combing of hair before we dash out the door for school. It is where life happens and hence, also my “kitchen moments”.

One particular kitchen moment happened a few weeks ago on an ordinary night as the boys were finishing homework and I was attempting to clean-up the kitchen, but found myself very distracted by the music coming from my new under cabinet docking station. “Moon River” a great song to waltz to, was playing and I was itching to dance with someone. So I grabbed Dallin and proceeded to drag him around like a rag doll. He finally got some sense of the rhythm along with that I would die if my friends saw me doing this, but I kinda like it look and we danced until I felt like I had adequately humiliated him in front of his older brother and I let him go.

That’s when Richard walked in. I feigned great disappointment that Dallin didn’t really want to dance with me and Richard said, “Start it over and I’ll dance with you.”

My husband does not do things he considers unmanly; dancing is considered one of these things.

But I figured if he’s willing I’m not going to pass it up, so we started to dance.

First, he started off like a snobby aristocrat at some fancy ball so stiff and proper; speaking with a fake English accent while commenting on how waltzing is lovely, or some other flowery word. Next we fell into a more relaxed sloppy sort of waltzing where many toes were crushed; the better part being mine. But this led into a portion where he seemed to be actually trying; being more led than leading we went around in small circles on the vacant piece of laminate floor. And even though, Henry Mancini & His Orchestra were playing a beautiful version of “Moon River” I had the words from another song playing in my head.

You make me shine like the sun

Fall out of bed, sing like a bird

Dizzy in my head, spin like a record

Crazy on a Sunday night

You make me dance like a fool

Forget how to breathe

Shine like gold, buzz like a bee

Just the thought of you can drive me wild

Ohh, you make me smile

Don’t know how I lived without you

Cuz every time I get around you

I see the best of me inside your eyes

You make me smile.

And then like a needle being ripped across the vinyl of an LP, my dreamlike state was rudely interrupted by…

“Do you guys really have to do that in front of us?!”

And

“That’s just wrong!”

And

GROSS!!!

…Spoken by our on looking offspring. And so we stopped. The waltz ended.

But I was reminded once again, how lucky I am that in a world that sometimes seems as though it has been turned upside-down and is filled with doubt and uncertainty I have someone there who, even when he may not want to, is still able to make me smile.

And as for my offspring, my greatest hope for them, besides learning some manners, is that they will be lucky enough in this life to find someone equally worthwhile to have kitchen moments with.

Which I hope will be rudely interrupted.