Stupid is as stoopid does!

Seriously, this feels like the theme of my life lately.  My mom always told me that I don't get along well with stupid people and she's right.  My patience levels are not high.

Here is an example.



This is a picture of my new bedding.  I got it a couple of weeks ago from a pottery barn sale.  Side note - my bedding my entire marriage has been from pottery barn.  Go figure.

Anyway, because I have new bedding, I now had old bedding.  It was being used, as a trampoline, blanket, tent, fort, comforter, sail boat, wrestling ring, in my bedroom on the floor by my children, but that really wasn't the best use for it.

So, Ross listed the old bedding, pictured below, for $30 on KSL. This image, along with 4 others, was featured in the sale add.




I may get a few of the details wrong, but on Sunday Ross was contacted by a woman who lived all the way in Syracuse who was interested in the duvet, down insert, and two standard shams.  But, because she was driving clear from Northern Utah, she didn't want to pay the full $30, she only wanted to pay $20.  Because we just wanted to get rid of it, Ross agreed to the price reduction and the buyer headed down.

We however, were leaving to go to my mom's for Sunday dinner when they would arrive so Ross texted to tell them that the duvet was in the garbage bag on the pork and to leave the money in the planter on the front porch.

This is where things get interesting.

When we got to my mom's, Ross received a text that they had arrived from our house, but where was the duvet cover, all the saw in the bad was a sheet.

Ross explained that it wasn't a sheet, it was the actual duvet cover, down insert and two standard pillow shams.

The next text told him, that the sheet wasn't in the bag and because the sheet wasn't there, they were only going to pay $10 would that be okay.

Ross said no, that $10 was not acceptable, and that there was no sheet included.

The next text said that there was a sheet in the picture, and they wanted the sheet.

Um...duh!  They wanted the SHEETS OFF MY BED! because they were in the picture showing what the bed looked like made.  A picture that was also taken three years ago.

Then Ross handed me his phone in frustration.  I replied.
$10 not okay.  $20 only.  Sorry for your trouble.  Drive home safely.

Then there was silence for a while.

Then another text.

It said: "Thank you.  We left the money in the snail!"
 

easter weekend

I guess since Easter was now a couple of days ago, I ought to document it somehow, right?

We had a most excellent Easter weekend.  First, the boys and their dad had Good Friday off of school and work and made the most of their day.  They spent a couple hours at the baseball field, they got haircuts and ran errands and got slushes from sonic.    We rounded out the night with dinner, egg decorating and a movie.

Side Note:  Decorating eggs with little boys isn't all it's "cracked" up to be.  It took longer to set ourselves up than it did to color the eggs.  In fact, I think it took about 35 seconds for their dozen eggs to be colored and cracked and destroyed.  I'm glad we didn't hard boil more than 12 because we threw them away Sunday afternoon.  They were colored and quickly forgotten.






On Saturday, we got up in the morning and joined my Grandpa at his rehabilitation place for an Easter Egg Hunt.  It was the most organized (and difficult) hunt I've ever been to and there was lots of candy and treats to be had by all.






Saturday was also mine and Ross' 11th wedding anniversary. There was no pomp or circumstance involved - we exchanged funny and obnoxious cards - and did manage to go to dinner and to a museum exhibit on Saturday night. It was nice to spend an evening with my husband - a few hours more than just dinner - without any kids. Now, my thoughts were with my children the majority of the time, but getting away for a bit was nice. Even if I had to wear khaki pants.



I love my husband very much and am so proud of all that we've done in 11 years. It feels as if it has gone by so quickly, and I can only wait for what lies ahead. Lots of baseball practice, I'm sure.

On Sunday, Easter , we had a hurried morning at home to get ready for church and find our hidden (treasure hunt) baskets and then spend the evening at Ross' parents house.  It was a nice day.

And, on Monday, to wrap up our long weekend, the boys and I went to the zoo, to lunch at the training table, pulled hundreds of dandelions out of the grass, played with friends, and went to baseball.



It was a really good weekend.

Quinner :: 19 months

You sing, you dance, you try and make fart sounds with your armpit.  What isn't there to love about you, kiddo?

Not much.

Your vocabulary has grown 10 fold in the last month.  I feel that, during the day, you and I communicate very well.  That angry-one-year-old-who-no-one-understands phase really didn't last that long and there is a lot of communicating going on.  Of the new words, the only ones I can really think of right now are: hippo, rhino, giraffe, bubbles, owie, shoes, bapple (apple), Elmo's shoes, a-dat (means What's that?).  I bet if your dad and I sat down to really think of all the words you say, you're close to 100.  Okay, maybe 65 worlds, but still, that's pretty impressive.

The weather has been so warm the last week or so that we've been able to play outside a lot.  You enjoy being in the back yard, chasing your brothers around, and blowing bubbles.  Yes, you can blow them, you are obsessed with them and went through two bottles on your own just this week.  Once I find a screwdriver and some batteries and get the bubble machine up and ready, you might lose your mind.

You've been trying to be braver lately, which is of course, getting you hurt a lot more.  You climb on everything.  You are trying to go down the stairs standing up or on your butt, instead of your tummy; you mess around in the garage like it's no body's business, and that whole opening doors thing is getting pretty annoying.  I've never been a big fan of "baby proofing", I believe in that crazy idea of "teaching" instead, but man alive, we may need to padlock the pantry door.



You are a grazer, always eating and munching.  And always getting stuff out of the pantry.  You only like western family star wars fruit snacks, love pears and 'nana's (bananas) and HAM!  You beg for ham almost every day.  You will eat an entire container of Tillamook key lime yogurt and two slices of pizza if the timing is right.  We used to be able to order one pizza for our family, now two is a must.  Adding you as  "real eater" is getting a little more expensive too.  Last night we went out to dinner and got you your own kids meal so you'd have a drink and fries that didn't have to be shared.

You sing and play all day long.  You dislike very much going anywhere in the car but you fall asleep on Monday's and Wednesday's without fail on the way to pick Wyatt up from school which translates into your nap for the day.  But on Friday's, even though it's the same schedule, you NEVER EVER fall asleep.  It's a little annoying, and curious at the same time.  Maybe you know it's Friday and time to party?

What else?  In order to eat at home, you have to be in your high chair (75% of the time), but at restaurants you are now sitting on a seat with us.  It's annoying because you are a food toucher - and cannot keep your hands to yourself.  I guess your most enjoyable habit is books.  At least 30 minutes of every hour you are awake is spent looking at books, carrying books around, sitting on my lap looking at books, or reading books to yourself.  And, if you aren't reading a book, or getting into Wyatt's Lego's, you are coloring.  You are a coloring machine.

And you throw really good temper tantrums.  Isn't that what all 19 month olds are for anyway?

Weighing in...

October of 2014, I rejoined (for the 5th time) weight watchers.  In five weeks I lost 10 pounds.  Last November, I started a three month diabetes challenge with Golds Gym.  I worked out, got a trainer, tracked what I ate for three whole months and at the end of those three months, I weighed exactly the same.  My measurements were exactly the same as they had been when I started.  My body fast was exactly the same as when I had started.

But, I wrote a good essay full of sunshine and rainbows shooting out of the butts of unicorns and voila!  (Are you aware of how many people use the word Voila! but spell it horribly wrong every time because they don't know it's French?  It's a lot!) I was selected to be on a speaking panel at the Diabetes Expo at the beginning of March.  On that panel, I spewed some more positivity about exercise and healthy living.  While in my head, I didn't believe anything I was saying.

I've been exercising 4 days a week for nearly 5 months.  I've had a trainer, been counting calories (not completely religiously, but pretty seriously) and watching what I eat for 5 months and guess what.  I look the same.  I weigh the same.  Nothing is changing.

Well, don't get me wrong.  My sister says I look nice almost every time I see her and I really appreciate it.  Thanks, Haley.  My mom thinks that my "muscles" are getting to big.  I did buy myself a pair of jeans, in my regular size, that weren't from Lane Bryant and don't have elastic and spandex in the waist and front.  So I guess yes, there have been some small, minuscule changes.

But, the scale hasn't budged.

I'm so tired of the scale not budging.

I know that being "healthy" is so much more than what I weigh.  I think I have more energy during the day and that I sleep better at night.  I'm pretty sure that my diabetes is better under control right now than it has been in a while.

But that number.

That number is killing me!

I've always known what I weigh, and known that I weigh more than an average girl.  I am not an average girl.  I know that in 11 years of marriage, three babies and having diabetes for the last 8 years has added on some major pounds and that I weigh (gasp) about 50 pounds more than I did when I got married.  Thank heavens I'm tall, right?  That I'm six foot three and not five foot three!  But, no matter what I think about my life and my family and my kids and my husband, I cannot get over the hurdle of the scale.

Just one pound.

Is it that much to ask for the scale to drop a pound, or two, or 15?

I'm just not sure how much more of this routine I can take.  Unfortunately, exercise is now part of my daily life.  I even start to wake up on my own, before the alarm a couple mornings a week.  I like using an elliptical machine and I think it's cool that I can do a plank for a whole minute without dying.  Last week my trainer had me alternate between squats and sprints on the treadmill for half an hour.  At the end, I'd run an 8 minute mile.  And my right knee was swollen three times it's size, but I was pretty impressed with myself after that workout.

Don't I at least deserve a pound for that?

My husband thinks there is something medically wrong with me.  Maybe there is.  I mean, I know that one pound is 3500 calories, so if I cut out 3500 calories from my diet each week, I should lose a pound.  I get the math.  I'm obsessing over the math.  Or, maybe it's just in my head and I'm totally coo-coo for cocoa puffs.

Why can't I be happy with what I look like, knowing how hard I'm trying to take care of  myself and my family?

Why is it that the stupid number on the scale is so important to me?  So important to so many women.

I'm not asking to be skinny.  I don't want to be skinny.  I just would like a little less of me to pinch.  I'd like to lose 20 or 30 pound by the end of the year.  I'd like to see a change, and maybe buy a size smaller pair of jeans.  I'd like to be more comfortable in my own skin and not feel like I'm dressed to embarrass my husband rather than impress him when he makes me go out to dinner to a nice restaurant.

I'd like a physical manifestation that all the work I'm putting in is worth it.  That I'm making the right decisions and doing the right things.

In five months, I've got pretty much nothing.

Here's to hope that in the next five months, I've got a little more than nothing to show for all my work.

Keeping our missionary up to speed

Editor's note:  I already had the idea for this post earlier in the day and am just barley getting around to it now that the kids are asleep.  I just checked my blog feeder and my sister did this exact same post today.  Apparently, we're related and we think the same things.

Anyway, on Monday's, Wyatt and I (and sometimes Quinn and Elliott) write letters and draw pictures to mail to Willie so he will get them on Wednesday, his "P" day.  On Tuesday nights, after baths and showers before we go to bed, we record a video (usually just me and Quinn) and Elliott sends Willie an e-mail.  The morning Willie reported to the MTC, we set him up with his own e-mail account.  So, he and Willie are corresponding and it's pretty much the coolest thing.  Elliott tells me what to type on Tuesday nights and then we read his funny e-mail from his uncle on Wednesday nights.  Willie writes him the best e-mails and ends them all with "I love you little buddy".  They make Elliott smile and are giving him something to look forward to - a special connection for oldest nephew and best uncle.

Anyway, I think our video correspondence is pretty cute.