My Blogiversary and Halloween Rolled into One

Halloween and my blogiversary. It's a double whammy.  Follow the ramblings if you can.

Two years. So much has changed in the world in two years.

The global economy crashed.
John left Kate and their eight.
Haiti.

Two years. So much has changed in my world in two years.

Baby Evie replaced Baby A.
Heidi and Tucker both graduated and moved on.
And now, I’m going to be a grandma.

The beauty of blogging is not only that I recorded all of these personal and world events. The beauty of blogging is that I was able to share them with you. Discuss with you. Learn and laugh with you.

The beauty of blogging is that I have come to know so many spectacular people. I consider people all over the world friends—friends I connect with almost daily. Friends who share funny anecdotes, political opinions, heartrending struggles. I love it.

To celebrate two years as part of this community and to show my appreciation for all of you, I’m hosting a giveaway. Giveaways have suffered a bit of a black eye lately, overshadowed by ad revenue and commercialism. I don’t have a dog in that fight.  I just want to give you guys stuff because I love you! Consider it early Christmas.

And what wonderful prizes am I parting with, you ask?  Since it's a celebration of my two years here, I thought I'd echo past giveaways:  one person will receive two bottles of my home-canned peach syrup.  Two people will receive my famous chocolate chip cookies (and two of you that I owe them to, as well!).  One of you will  receive a copy of my new favorite book, The Swan Thieves.  And one of you will receive a hand-picked holiday surprise, from me to you.

Nothing complicated.  Nothing fancy.  Just leave a comment on this post and tell me what about my Sanatorium you like to read most.

Winners will be drawn and posted Thursday morning.

Thanks for making this such a great corner of the world.

Hugs.

Foto Friday--Braceless Ben and Upcoming Events

Disclaimer: Getting a picture of a teenage boy NOT being crazy is impossible if they don't have football pads on.

Here's Ben a few weeks ago, just before he got his braces removed:

Here he is tonight, in response to my request that he show his teeth:

This next picture was the best of 47 shots.  It didn't help that his two little brothers were right behind me, laughing and encouraging his antics.

And, as a final shot, here's a tribute to Halloween this weekend.  I don't think he needs a costume with this face.

Even if he's slightly crazy, at least his teeth are straight, right?

On a completely unrelated note, next Thursday is my blogiversary--two years in the blogosphere, baby.  And, as a token of my appreciation to you, my dear blogging buddies, I will host a giveaway or two, interspersed with a few of my favorite posts.  

Happy Halloween, everyone, and see you Monday for the celebration!

F Is For . . .

F could stand for Friends who are patient and loving and caring.
F could stand for Frosting, which I've overindulged on this week.
F could also stand for fat--a result of the Frosting.

But seriously, is there any better F than FOOTBALL?

Poston vs. Stapley--biggest rivalry of the season.

Fourth quarter--Poston up 7-0 with 23 seconds left. Poston's kicker fumbles the snap. Stapley recovers. 3.5 seconds to go and Stapley has the ball--first and goal on the eight yard line.

And here's what happens:

FIFTY-FIVE! FIFTY-FIVE!

All I could do was yell: "That's my son! That's my boy! BEN!"
IT WAS AWESOME!

Linking up to Alphabe-Thursday.

On Mothering

I believe that, as women, we are born with the innate desires to nurture and nest.

I also believe that, as women, we are born with the innate flaws of perfectionism and comparison.

I've been struggling recently with my extremely busy life.  I never feel like I'm "on top of it," and rarely to I think I've accomplished much in a day.  Most of that can be attributed to the shortage of hours in a day and an impossible-to-accomplish-it-all list of chores to be done.  I go to bed each night and tally the unaccomplished.  The moments of neglect. The instanced I fell short.  The times I procrastinated or slept in or avoided or hid.

Most of all, I've felt powerless to change it all.  I had no idea how to reorganize my life.  Me.  A woman who prizes her organizational skills--disorganized.  These feelings have led me to avoid exercise, increase junk food of all species, stay up later than I should and sleep longer than is needful.  It's a spiral, isn't it?  You think that sleeping in will give you more energy, but it just puts you behind for the day.  That handful of candy corn will boost you for the afternoon, but it just yields guilt and further indulgence.  Exercise?  That just takes too much time, yet when completed, it boosts endorphins for an entire day.

The irony of this situation is that life really couldn't be better.  My kids are doing great.  Finances are as good as they could be in this economy.  I'm healthy (although heavier than I wish).  I'm happy.  I just feel like I'm out of control.  And I hate that feeling.

I've been thinking about this a lot, and three recent posts have directed me where I need to head from here.
Pam recently attended a Power of Moms conference in New Hampshire.  One sentence in that post struck me "Mothering is my passion and my profession."  I'm a professional.  A professional with 20 years of experience, to boot (and if you add up all the kids' ages, it actually totals 72 YEARS, plus a few foster kids).  Would any CEO dare lumber through their job every day, hoping that the right tasks would present themselves, no schedule or plan of any kind, aside from naptime from 12:30-3 and dinner at 5:30?  I need to start acting like the pro.  Because I am.  And fitting everything in during a week takes planning to avoid the guilt at the end of the week.

Jen recently posted her thoughts on budgeting.  Not budgeting money, but budgeting time. She said, "I do so much, but I could do so much differently.  Really, the possibilities are endless."  This is true.  We all do so much.  But are we doing the things that really matter--the essentials--or just "things"?

Then today, Paige listed many of the demands placed on her as the mother, whether self-imposed or not.  And she linked to this talk by Julie B. Beck. And this was exactly what I needed to kick-start my reformation.  She said, “Sisters, . . .  there has to be some prioritizing. I was taught years ago that when our priorities are out of order, we lose power. If we need power and influence to carry out our mission, then our priorities have to be straight."

So, instead of bouncing aimlessly and purposely through the latter part of my day (unlike my Costco run this morning), I took most of naptime for a little self-evaluation.  I followed Sister Beck's advice.  I made three lists--the essential, the necessary, and the nice-to-do. 

I followed Jen's advice, and I wrote out a schedule of my time--with plenty of flexibility for my kiddos and their lives--listing first the essential, then the necessary, then the nice-to-do.

Then, I looked at it like a professional, as per Pam's pen.  Is this doable?  Yes. Can I accomplish this? Should be able to. Can I stick to it? Hope so. Will it put me more on top of things? Eventually. And most importantly, will it be best for my family?  We'll have to see.  I just know that I can be better at this mothering thing.

After I've worked out a few of the bugs and tried this system, I'll post the results.  The best thing about this struggle?  I know that Heavenly Father wants me to succeed in my profession.  And with Him in my corner, if I consult with Him, we're unbeatable.

Fragments from My Weekend

Wedding Reception:
One of my "other oldest daughters" was married. Wasn't she beautiful?

The reception was absolutely gorgeous. Tons of help from tons of people, and it all came together swimmingly.

Here's what's still hanging around our house since the reception:

Last-minute idea for the backdrop to the receiving line--tons of candles and a floor-length mirror (I did take our family picture down so the Denton clan wasn't staring down at them every moment).

We took all the furniture out of the living room for the receiving line and all the furniture out of the family room for dining tables and a place to watch the wedding video. It was cold (for here), so some tables were outside as well. I figured I wouldn't put the furniture back if I could get the carpet cleaned this week. So we'll enjoy our own personal light-saber ring until Thursday!

A few straggling dishes borrowed from friends and four remaining flower arrangements. Wish you could see the calla lilies in the center and the floating cranberries.

Coffee table and lamp from the family room are still in the entry. Too tired to move them anywhere else, and who are they hurting, really?

We did have a momentous birthday this weekend as well. Miss Evie turned one. I can't believe it's already been a year. Bean bags from Aunt Amy, . . .

. . . a rattle from Aunt Katie, $ from Grandma T, and, of course, her cell phone. She loves that thing.

I don't have a single picture of her with her cake, but hopefully I can get this video to work. She would not touch it. So, why does her cake look like the above picture? Because Mom's been stressed out. And Mom loves frosting.

Pardon our tone-deaf family. It really is bad, isn't it?

Busy Busy Busy

image from here

This is my life.  Can't seem to get on top of anything these days.
Just know I'm thinking of all of you, and I'm so busy that posting will have to wait until tomorrow.

Not the E I was Expecting

You were probably expecting an E of this nature, weren't you?  My E-V-D as she is known these days.  Or maybe even eyelashes.  Can you believe them?

I am tardy on my E post.  Usually I write it Wednesday night.  Not this week. 

The kids had parent/teacher conferences this week, so they were out extra early--1:15--all week.  And I had the privilege of teaching Hyrum's Joy School Monday and Wednesday mornings.  All this extra kid time cut markedly into my me time.  I spend most of my me time working on the 90-minute Institute class I teach every Thursday morning.  But there was little to no me time this week.

So what was my recourse?

I pulled two college nights--that's right.  Caffeine and carbs and late hours.  Two nights this week I wasn't in bed until almost 1 am.  My family is up around 6-6:30. And I always try to get at LEAST 7 1/2 hours of sleep.  Optimal is nine.  Sad, huh? Nine?  Really?  I think the two nights added together maybe added up to 10 1/2.  Maybe.

I taught this morning.  And it took me a good twenty minutes to get into the groove.  So tired I was incorrectly writing words on the board, stumbling over phrases, even losing my place in my notes a few times.  The oomph was gone.
Teaching that class takes it out of me for a few hours on the best of days.

Today, I'm exhausted.

There's a wedding reception in my back yard on Saturday.  Eve's first birthday is Saturday. 

I'm headed to bed at 8:30 tonight.

Buh-bye, Exhaustion.

Linking up to Jenny Matlock's Alphabe-Thursday.

Reality? Check.

Do you think you're ready for a REAL day at the Sanatorium? This is the history of October 19, 2010, unedited version:

Slept in an extra twenty minutes. This may not sound like that big of a deal, but it did put us all behind schedule, since Ben has piano at 7 am.
I drove to piano in my nightgown. And set out the garbage cans in my nighty, too.  Brad was asleep, since he'd been up late doing bishop stuff.

I tried to iron Ben's shirt with my curling iron, but it just didn't have the strength to tackle a job of that magnitude.  How do you lose an iron?  Ours developed legs and walked somewhere.

Hyrum watched hours of TV this morning while I worked on the class I teach and neglected him.  Evie slept the morning away.

Then we ran a few errands.  I got a new iron at Target.  Bought the one my sister Karen recommended.  She said it changed her life (or maybe she said her life is laundry--don't recall).

Something snuck into my bag--okay, I confess.  Five or six times a year I'll cave in and buy People magazine.  Sue me. I bet you do it too.

I have a first birthday so close I can taste the frosting.  I found this little phone at Target and thought it would be perfect for the birthday girl.  The package convinces you that it's easy to convert into a gift box.  I have a college degree, and it took me almost ten minutes to figure out the directions.  But it didn't beat me.  I did it!

Hyrum pitched a fit in the parking lot at Safeway.  Why?  Because I wouldn't take him to Burger King for lunch.  "I hate you!"  "You're the meanest mom in the world!"  "You're weally dumb."  How do you handle such outbursts?  Oh, I forgot.  You're all perfect, so this never happens to you.  My personal philosophy is this:  If we're at home, words like that warrant a dose of vinegar, some time in the corner, and an apology.  If we're in public, I just ignore them and get them in the car as quickly as possible. Drove home to sobbing, kicking, and eventually the silent treatment with folded arms and scowling face.

Since he threw that fit, he was swiftly whisked into bed and I enjoyed a favorite gourmet lunch: Banquet turkey pot pie with ketchup and diet Pepsi.  Blame my dad for both of these shortcomings.  He'll gladly accept the blame. But I did get to savor People magazine over my lunch, effectively procrastinating what I should have been doing during naptime--working on class and ironing. (Is anyone else sad about Courteney Cox and David Arquette?  I'm always sad when kids are involved).

Think it's time to replace these pillows?  I can never seem to find the time to keep them on the couch, let alone recover them.  Why aren't they hidden in some closet?  Stay tuned and you'll see why.

Cute as a button, but those headbands are beginning to turn into toys: chewed, thrown, pulled down around her neck.  Girl, ya better grow some hair or leave the blasted things alone!

What do you think Hyrum had for his snack after naps?  Five dollars to the person who guessed raspberry Crystal Light.  Five dollars to the person who guessed fishy crackers, granola bar, yogurt smoothie, yogurt, and orange cheese.

This is why the pillows stay on the couch.  Like my "tchotchke" closet?  It's not too messy yet.  The door still shuts.  It's been on my list for over 3 months now.  It'll have to wait till November now.  This is the most humiliating admission of the day.  Ouch. I'm cringing.

Around 2:30 I made my to-do list for the day.  That may have been a little tardy, don't you think?  Number three on the list: Self-portrait for this post.  Okay. It took me 10 shots to get a self-portrait where I was even mostly in the shot.  This is what my hair does every day around 2 pm, no matter what I do.  Fine, straight, and thin.  This can be traced back to my dear mother.  Thanks, Mom.  But at least I didn't get her early gray.

2:30 is also about when my daily carb fest begins:  Today it was half a snack bag of Bugles (from who-knows-where), half a sleeve of Ritz crackers and a slice of Havarti, three handfuls of pretzels.

I had forgotten that I had to drive boys to soccer practice at 4:15.  Oops.  So I hurried to the bathroom for a quick pit stop--and stepped barefoot into a puddle at the foot of the toilet.  Two possibilities here--Hyrum missed, or  . . . a quick swipe with a wipe confirmed my second possibility.  Roxy drank out of the toilet.  Never have I been so grateful that Ben forgot to water his dog.

Rounded them boys all up, headed over to the field.

Keeping it real today, right?  Micah is not the star.  He isn't even close.  He was the only kid there without his soccer socks and shin guards.  He doesn't even own cleats. He's six.  It's okay.

What did I do during practice?  Cheer on my kid and appreciate his developing skills?  Nope.  I dropped off handouts for my class to be copied and then I worked on Thursday's presentation.  What? Not what I should have been doing?  I did take his picture!

Since I'd forgotten I was carpool Mom today, we ended up with four brown and orange boxes for dinner--Little Caesar once again saves the day!  Have you had their cheesy Italian bread?  It is a carb-and-fat lover's dream!!  I know fish and shells would have been healthier, but seriously.  When did I have time to cook?

I came home from our Relief Society meeting around 9:15 and headed upstairs to kiss and tuck in my kids.  Hyrum was stirring, so I tucked his silky close around him, rubbed his clean head, and whispered in his ear, "Rum, I love you."  He nestled closer into his pillow and sleepily uttered:  "I know."

Then that means today was perfect.

Here's the link.
Let's see the real you. Are you brave enough?

Life Is Good. But It Ain't Perfect, That's for Sure

It has recently come to my attention that one of my readers thinks my life is perfect. I try to keep it real around here. I apologize if my writing has presented a false image of perfection around here. We are the SANATORIUM, after all. Things are always crazy and never perfect.

I yell too much. I sleep in too often. I neglect exercise too frequently. I occasionally spank and repeatedly send offenders to the corner. Piano practice is a challenge, fixing dinner an ever-present grind.

I do try to dwell on the positive—who would want to dwell on the negative all the time? My kids truly are brilliant, funny and beautiful. My family is the center of my life, and my life is good. Good, yes. Perfect, no.

Tomorrow, I challenge you to post a real day. The good, the bad, and the ugly. Images appreciated but not required. I’d love to see what you really look like at the grocery store. I’d like to know your real-life discipline. Do you go crazy every afternoon like I do and devour every carb in sight? Or are you a “hide in the bathroom till the chaos passes” kind?

I’m not talking about divulging deep dark flaws here. We really don’t want to know those things. But those things that make you real. Not Barbie-of-the-Blogs. Not Crafty-Queen. Not Fashionista-du-jour. The real you. The one that draws us back to your blog again and again. I’m prepared to let down my guard a bit. And I’ll show you the real Sanatorium. Messes, arguments, imperfection and all.

Ready to join me in this revolution? Link your post Wednesday.

We’re all anxious to meet the real you.

See you tomorrow.

Another Big Change Coming My Way

The announcement came at the end of a medium-length phone call. Off-handed. Casual.

All I could say was “Wow.” “Wow.” Finally I collected myself and asked the usual questions: How far along are you? How have you been feeling? When’s the baby due?

Don’t get me wrong. Heidi and Sam, although young and newly married, will be classified with the world’s best parents. They are already expert at changing diapers and wrestling monkeys and reading stories and, as we found out in Provo, dealing with a puking/pooping ten-year-old. They are justifiably excited.

They’re typical first-time parents, wondering if everything out of a doctor’s mouth is gospel or advice (take your prenatal vitamins=gospel; don’t drink any apple juice=ridiculous advice). But they’re as prepared and ready for the responsibility as anyone I’ve ever seen.

I, however, was not mentally prepared for the leap that this requires of me.

From mom to mother-in-law wasn’t instantaneous, I must admit. In my defense, I was only three weeks postpartum and highly emotional at the time. But once I met Sam, saw them together, saw how he looked at her, saw how he immediately fit in our family, all fears flew away, and I loved him.

From mom to . . . grandma. Wow. Wow. I don’t know if I’m ready for that. I mean, I’m still nursing a baby. I’m a few months away from being able to nurse my own grandchild. Weird, isn’t it?

Not only that, but . . . I’m still young. Way too young for this. I feel 30, and now, my first baby is going to have a baby. How did I get here? When did I blink and cross the threshold into middle age? Where was I? I’m still changing my own diapers, potty-training my own toddler.

All these questions have been lurking in the back of my mind for the last four weeks—yes, I’ve known that long.

Then I saw this:

And all my questions evaporated. I couldn’t stop staring. And wondering. And guessing.

And instantly loving.

What will my moniker be? Nana? Gran? Grandma? Don’t know yet.

My baby’s having a baby.
Wow. Wow.

Foto Friday--Cougar Style

Saturday in Provo, Utah:

I don't know if this shot was staged or just came out that way. Knowing these two, it must have been staged.

Evie was a trooper. She went and went and went until she was spent. See?

We spent over an hour on the big hill outside the library's atrium--rolling and rolling and rolling and crying and fighting and playing.

Hyrum never stopped climbing that hill and running or rolling back down.

Doesn't this remind you of Simba hiding in the grass, ready to pounce? Evie was safe, I can promise you.

Micah, Micah, Micah. That boy. Gotta love him.

The kids rolled up and down the hill a million times, completely oblivious to the fact that people were studying on the other side of the glass. Without warning, someone rushed out of the library and who did we see? Heidi's friend Heather and her fiance, Greg. Greg had leaned over to Heather and said, "I think the Dentons are out there." He was right.
And, as of today, they are Mr. and Mrs. Greg Zollinger. Congratulations, guys. Wish I could be there. See you next Saturday.

Tucker requests that he and Ben not be misinterpreted as a married couple. Thank you.

And what was waiting for me when I got home? I bet you can't guess.


It was worth every load. Every dirty shirt. Every missing sock. Even Lily's food poisoning filth.
Worth every second.

Linking up to Follow Me Friday