Hungry

Boys, what do you want for breakfast?

Nothing.
Nothing.

But you need to eat breakfast before you go to school so what do you want? 

Um, I'll just have a toaster waffle and a banana and maybe some yogurt, too.  But I'm not that hungry.
I'll have chocolate toast!

Boys, what do you want for lunch?

I don't know.
I don't know!

But boys, it's time for lunch so let's eat.

Okay, then I'll have a ham sandwich and some chips and some cuties and a cookie.
I'll have a frozen pretzel in the microwave with extra salt.  

Mom, can I have a snack?
Mom, can I have a snack?
MOM, CAN I HAVE A SNACK, PLEASE!!!!!!!

What would you like?
 A cookie and a piece of toast with jam and an apple.
2 cookies, please.  And some fruit snacks and goldfish crackers?

(30 minutes later....)

Mom, can I have a snack?
Mom, can I have a snack?
MOM, CAN I HAVE A SNACK, PLEASE!!!!!!!

No more snacks.  It's after four o'clock and it's too close to dinner.  Sorry, Charlie.

But I am so hungry.
But I am starving. 
 
Mom, what are we having for dinner anyway?

Pork chops and rice.  And pineapple and garlic bread.  (must go to the grocery store for more cohesive dinner foods)


But I don't like pork chops and rice.
I want a pepperoni pizza. I only eat pizza.  If I don't have pizza I won't eat dinner ever again.  But maybe I'll have a yogurt, too.

(Begrudgingly eat dinner....)
(15 minutes after dinner.....)

Mom, what's for dessert?

The most normal people I know...

Yesterday was a rite of summer.  My sister and her kids, and my brother and his phone, congregated at my house to hang out and eat food.  Lunching the summer away seems to be one of our most favorite past times.  Regardless of the fact that we love to eat, the cousins love to play with each other (and let me tell you, Miss Molly-wog can hold her own with a light saber) and I love to hang out with my brother and my sister.

We sat at the kitchen table for a couple of hours, while the kids were all over the place and Quinn the sloth slowly ate little pieces of french fries in his high chair, laughing and teasing and talking.  We talked about music and family and our lack of friends in high school (me and Haley) and out of high school (my brother's friends have divorced him since he broke-up with his non-girlfriend).

It was fun.

One of my favorite kind of days.  In fact, we knew Haley was bringing us lunch, but when Uncle Willie pulled into the driveway behind her, and the boys saw that their fun was about to double, Elliott exclaimed, "Uncle Willie is here too!  Now, it's a party!"

Last Saturday, we all headed out to my grandpa's to work.  His ancient railroad tie flower bed was in decay and my mom had convinced him that my dad and Ross could build him something new with stone.  He said he'd been nervous about it all week, but that he finally stopped thinking about it and decided to let my mom go ahead with her plan.  We arrived around Noon to get working.  And get swimming because let's face it, that's what all the members of the work crew 18 and under wanted to do.  Ross and my dad built the wall in record time and it only took one extra trip to Lowes.  My mom did the yard work and I baby sat the kiddos in the back yard.

It was fun.

It was a perfect Saturday.  And, the funny thing is - that night we got home, finished our yard work and in desperation for dinner, got Chili's for take out.....my parents?  They got home, finished their yard work, got cleaned up and went to Chili's for dinner.  Great minds think alike, apparently.

But all of this is useless and mindless storytelling unless I get to my point, right?

Right?

Here is the point.....

Ross and I were having a conversation on Saturday after building the wall, or maybe before, cannot remember.  I told him that as strange as we all may be, my immediate family, we are the most normal and high functioning group of people that we know.  We are educated, sincere, intelligent, hard working, funny people.  We do service.  We help each other out.  We love each other.  We always put each other first.  Collectively, we can sing the lyrics to pretty much ever song ever recorded, and a few of our own. We buy each other lunch and show up on time for the shuttle to go to Disneyland.  We do what my mom and dad tell us to do and ask us to do.  We go to church and are faithful.  We are honest and have integrity.  We try to be kind to everyone.  We always tell the truth and never do things that are dishonest.  We talk to each other, work out our differences, and move forward.  We don't make excuses.  We support each other in all that we do.

My mom and dad are pretty cool.  I'm not sure how they created such a tight knit "together" family but they did.  Well, I know how they did it.  Lots of hard work,  sacrifice, and dedication to all the right things.

And, we all have some pretty tight dance moves, too.

Not really.

Weighing in...

 

While at my parents house after Sunday dinner a few weeks ago, we were getting ready for Willie's seminary graduation in the same way we got ready for stuff when we were kids.  Me, Haley and Willie (and a few of the little chilluns) were sitting on the bed or bench in my parent's room, watching my mom comb her hair and put on her makeup.  Some things never change.  While watching her get ready, I said to my mom and siblings something to the effect of, "Is it okay that lately, I don't feel as fat as I know that I am?"  Willie gave me a look of pure dorkdom and Haley shrugged her shoulders.  About the response I'd expected.

You see, lately I haven't felt like I normally do.  Yes, I still feel stressed and beaten down; over worked and underpaid; lucky to be home with my boys and aching for a little bit of freedom all at the same time.  But, I guess I've felt a little bit lighter on my feet.  Mentally anyway.

In February I joined a gym.  Since then it's been my goal to try and go at least twice a week for an our each time.  You'd think that twice a week would be a piece of cake but, shock, it isn't.  In fact, it's pretty hard and there are a lot of weeks I don't go at all and a lot of weeks where I've gone twice, hoping for a third or fourth and it just doesn't happen.  When you don't leave the house to go and exercise until 9:00 or 9:30 at night, it's hard to find the motivation.  But, I've been trying.

As part of my efforts to get my butt active, I signed up to do a 5k, The Color Run, with my brother in August.  I am not a runner and have no intentions of being a runner.  But, I am competitive (it's genetic) and don't want to look like a fool in front of my very fit brother.  So, running on the treadmill, twice a week, is my new routine.  I'm far from being able to run 3.1 miles, but I have a plan, besides not fainting or throwing up in front of said little brother, I'm giving myself a big window, 2.75 months to get ready.  And, I'm making progress.  Four weeks ago, I could not run a mile on a treadmill.  In fact, I could walk a mile faster than I could walk/trot a mile.  How pathetic is that?

But, on Tuesday this week, I set my best time.  I ran a mile in 13:13.  Yes, as my brother would say, it's as pathetic as a 7th grade gym class, but it's a start.  And, I can run (slowly) on a treadmill for thirty straight minutes, getting myself to a whopping 2.1 miles - one mile away from a 5k.

Progress.  It's slow, but it's progress.

My efforts are also two part - one, be able to actually run the 5k.  Two, tighten myself up.  Long gone are the days where I think about being skinny or cute...now are the days to be healthy and fit.  Very different goals.  Part of that though, is to lose weight, if I were to be so lucky.  It's not a must, but it's an added benefit of my exercise attempts.

The last four weeks I've really made an effort - eating less sugar and bread, minimal treats and as little eating out as possible.  That, with the sweatier efforts at the gym (30 minutes on the treadmill and 20 on weights), I've started to see a change.  Not as much sag and jiggle.  Not as much moping and pouting.  But, I hadn't really been friends with the scale.

I know what I weigh.  I know what I used to weigh.  I know that since Quinn was born, once I hit 6 weeks postpartum, I'd lost all but about 12 of the pounds that I gained in 38 weeks, but that even if I lost those 12, I'm still far from a weight I want to weigh.

Anyway -this is getting so long now, isn't it.

Point is, I got on the scale this week.  It said that in the last four weeks I lost 6 pounds.

What?

Stop the train!

Yeah!

The next day I went to my diabetes doctor.  I was down even one more pound on her scale.

Can you say seven pounds lost in four weeks?

I can.

I was so happy.

And, for the first time in a long time, my diabetes feels "under control."  Ahhhhh, so nice to say that.  It seems that it's so under control that I don't have to go back for 6 months, instead of the usual three.  Even better.

SO, to sum it all up?

I do not like to exercise but I like the way I feel after I exercise.

I do not like to run, but I like feeling like I accomplished something and am one step closer to not having my little brother run circles around me on August 24th.

I do not like to get on a scale, but feel so great that the little big of effort I've made so far has been rewarded.

I do like rewards.

The end and amen!

Limited Engagement Only!

Dad, this is for you, but only for a couple of days and then I'm going to take it down. The rest of you? You can watch, too.
I need a hero from Annie Howden on Vimeo.

Quinner: 9 months

The nine month milestone blows my mind.  It took 38 weeks to get you here, little brother, a little over nine months time, and that felt like forever.  But kiddo, you've now been alive for a smidge over nine months and time is flying by so quickly, that I just want to freeze the world and make everything stand still for a minute.  Or, find superman and have him spin the world backwards for a bit so I can get some baby time back because kiddo - you are not my little squishy baby anymore.

The last few weeks for you have been crazy.  You got 6 teeth, learned how to crawl, figured out how to "walk" in your Lightning McQueen walker, opened drawers and cupboards, and bonked your head on everything.  You are turning into a very cute little trouble maker and keeping me on my toes.  So far, I've fished a Lego, a Nerf bullet, a penny, some grass, some carpet, and a little cover for a light on a necklace out of your mouth.  Your brothers never shoved stuff in their mouths - but they always had binkers as plugs - you, not being a binker kid, have a hankering for all things dangerous.

 

You attended your first high school graduation and slept through it.  You made your second trip to the zoo and after a while, with much protesting on your part, I got you out of the stroller and you tried to make out with the harbor seals through the glass.  Having big kid experiences is all the rage these days.  No more being content watching from the sidelines - heck, you'll even crawl on concrete and wet grass so you can try and pick up an ant to eat.  I heard they are a delicacy in some parts of the world.

 

 

This past month, your dear dumb mother, also had a terrible parenting moment with you and I'm so sorry.  A few weeks ago, Elliott had the flu.  A few days after he got better, Wyatt got it, mostly in the toilet but a lot on the floor - yeah for dark brown carpet.  I went outside to get dad and asked Elliott to watch you, even though he was playing on his kindle and didn't have any idea I was talking to him.  And me, the dummy, didn't close the back door (this crawling stuff is killing me!).  Long story short, I came into the house to a screaming for his life little baby and one scared older brother.  You apparently had crawled to the back door, fell down the steps in the garage and Elliott heard you screaming, scooped you up with a rush of adrenaline and brought you back into the house, where you promptly threw up.  You too, had the flu and continued throwing up for most of the night.  I panicked and begged your dad to take you to instacare because I was certain you had a baby concussion.  He humored me, took you to the doctor in the late night, they said you had the flu and wanted us to take you to Primary Children's up by the "U" just in case you hurt your brain.  We decided to keep you home and you were fine.  It was bottles only (sometimes only 2 ounces at a time) for a few days but by memorial day you started perking back up.

We all learned our lesson with that one and have been so much more careful since.  Mobile babies are my worst nightmare and you are so fast for being such a fat little fart - keeping everyone in this house on our toes.

 



 

You also had your first road trip this month.  We went to St. George, Utah for a family reunion for dad's family.  It was hot.  It was quick.  It was on mom's birthday, which sort of bummed me out.  But, we did get to spend time with a lot of dad's extended family, cousins, and even went to a movie for mom's "birthday activity".  You of course, slept through the whole thing.  Such a good boy.  The road trip was right in the middle of you having the flu, so you weren't your normal crazy self, but you charmed everyone nonetheless.

 

 

You participated in your first parred down Memorial Day.  Your brothers and I visited mom's grandma's the day before we went to St. George.  You slept through Grandma Huber but were awake and got out of the car for Grandma P.  I'm pretty sure that you knew those grandmas were loving on you, after all, they sent you to our little family now, didn't they?

 

Little buddy, you are continually blowing my mind.  You are the cutest, smartest, and funniest little 9 month old baby there ever was in the whole world....and as always, we love you lots and lots.

 



Pomp and Circumstance

Today was the day, the big graduation day.

My boys and I spent the morning sweating at the zoo.  Then we went to the Hawaiian Hut to pick up the leis I had ordered for Willie to wear at graduation.  After we dropped off the leis to Grandma Judy's fridge, played and stuffed ourselves with pizza, we headed home just in time to get ready, have a snack, take Elliott to baseball practice, bring Elliott home from baseball practice and head to graduation.

Graduation was boring.  Most are, I suppose but it was really hard to hear the speakers, the crowd was terribly rowdy and unruly, and the Madrigals sang, of all songs, "the wind beneath my wings".  Way to stay current Madrigals.  Don't you all watch Glee?

Anyway, the highlight of the ceremonies was, of course, Mr. President.  He stood heads taller than those around him, and after a season of tennis, glowed with his bright blond hair.  As valedictorian, he gave a great speech that reminded me of how much my brother is half me, and half my sister.  He cracked a goofy joke or two, he told some stories and he listed out the points of his talk.  He talked about how important it is to seize the day, make a difference and that, like Pedro from Napoleon Dynamite, all your (HHS students) wildest dreams can come true.  And he talked about Shavy Jones which nearly brought a tear to my eye.

After the reading of the millions of names was over and the graduation commencement had commenced we waited and waited and waited for that brother of mine to make it outside to his adoring fans, his family.

Words cannot even begin to describe how proud I am of this boy.

I am proud.  And so excited for what his future holds.

Big things are a comin' Willie Petersen.  You had better be ready.

And now, a serious picture overload....
(Willie, you can get these and more (many many more) of flickr.  Dad can show you how)

Waxing Philosopical....in the car

 

Driving home the other day, we had a deep conversation.  It went something like this.

Wyatt:  Mom, can we add riding the Trax train to our list of summer things to do.

Mom:  Yeah, that's a great idea.  Where do you want to ride the train to?

Wyatt:  Maybe to the children's museum?

Elliott:  Or maybe we could just go for a ride?

Mom: Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.  I guess we have to decide which is more important, the destination or the journey.

****

Elliott looks at me like I'm speaking a foreign language and Wyatt looks out the window.

*****

Mom:  Elliott do you know what I'm talking about?  What is a destination?

Elliott:  It's the place your going to.

Mom:  Okay, Wyatt, what is a journey? (Silent stares out the window)

Elliott:  It's the time it takes you to get to your destination.

Mom:  Very good, Elliott.  So,  then what does it mean when I said we have to decide which is more important, the destination or the journey?

Elliott:  It means we have to decide if it's more fun to ride the Trax train to a place, or if we want to ride it just for fun!

Mom:  Excellent my boy!  Very good.  So, do you want the destination or the journey?

Wyatt:  I want the journey!

Elliott:  I think I want the destination!

******

A funny little conversation with my boys and me.  I think that it's pretty telling that Wyatt picked the journey, and Elliott the destination.  And, you have to admit that it's pretty cool my kid figured the whole thing out....he's a pretty smart little fart.  And #2, I was shocked that Wyatt was even really listening....talk about wanting the journey.