The Princess In Search of the Kingdom April 30, 2008

The Princess turns 8 tomorrow. (yes, I’m planning a birthday post for her but at the moment I have other things on my mind.) So being members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints we’ve been talking to her about getting baptized. She wants to be baptized, she’s very excited to get baptized. Unfortunately it seems to be impossible to get a child baptized in my stake. (For any of my readers who are not LDS there will be several terms here that you will probably not understand. I apologize.)

I have talked to the Bishop. The Princess has even had an interview with him (although I didn’t get any paperwork and I now understand that I was supposed to) and I have mentioned to him that I haven’t been contacted about the Stake baptism. “oh well they do it, I think, the first Saturday of the month,” I’m told, “at around 4:00.”

I think and around are not going to cut it here people! I have family to invite.

And what about the program? Are we expected to contribute? If not, well frankly I want to know why not. It’s not like I want to speak, trust me I don’t. But my daughter, my baby, is getting baptized and I’m not even giving a prayer?

But this is all assuming that there is a program. Who would be in charge of that? I’ve asked. Oh I’ve asked. I”ve asked the Bishop I’ve asked the Primary President, I’ve asked the mother of the other child in our ward who should be getting baptized this Saturday. The answer I get from all of these people is “the stake.” As in, “the stake’s in charge of that.” Oh really? Well, do you HAVE THE STAKE’S PHONE NUMBER?!!!!!!

So I asked the ward mission leader, He’s in charge of a lot of baptisms right? Only convert baptisms, member baptisms are handled by the stake. GRRR… He gave me a name, one of the Bishops of one of the other wards in the stake. I called. He isn’t in charge of those anymore. But he thinks this guy is, call him. I call. I’m waiting for a call back but I’m gonna be honest with you, I’m not holding my breath.

The baptism is supposed to be in 3 days people! Why have I not been contacted? Why did no one call me a month ago to find out what we had planned? I guarantee that if we were inactive the missionaries would beating down my door. But we’re not so no one has any interest in helping my daughter with this VERY IMPORTANT ordinance.

THIS IS A SAVING ORDINANCE!!!!!! It’s not like I’m mad that someone’s not right on top of giving her her Faith in God award. And I KNOW she would have been talked to about her Young Womanhood Recognition before this point. There are whole committees in the church set up to get kids through this stuff. Eagle Projects? fuhgedaboutit. BAPTISM IS SO MUCH MORE IMPORTANT THAN THAT!

I happened to talk to another woman in the ward, the Princesses primary teacher, this evening (poor woman, I totally unloaded on her) and she said that she had the same problem in February when her son turned 8. She finally called the Stake President. He made a few calls and when she was finally contacted, the Wednesday or Thursday before the baptism, she was told that since her son was the only kid in the stake getting baptized she was in charge of the program. That’s what, four days to line up speakers, a pianist, prayers, someone to lead music?

Now, I got family. (No, not that kind of family, although we’re not too far off there at this point.) I have plenty of people whom I could ask to speak on just about any gospel topic at a moment’s notice and they would give some of the best talks you’ve ever heard. I have a sister who could sing you whatever you want whenever you want and she’d knock your socks off. But I shouldn’t have to do that! And there’s plenty of people, in my area especially, who don’t have that luxury.

At this point I’m ready to find a swimming pool (or even a really large bathtub) and invite the family over. Like I said, I have family. There’s plenty of priesthood around and If my ward and stake families aren’t interested, well I know that my family is.

So that’s I think Saturday at 4ish. I’ll let you know what happens.

Morror, Mirror on the Wall, Who’s the Handiest of Them All? April 30, 2008

That would be me.
I BUILT THIS!

No, I didn’t put it together. I BUILT IT. I had very specific needs and I knew that Ikea just wasn’t going to do it on this one (no slight intended to Ikea, love them) so I got out my tape measure and I did some quick (or possibly really really slow) calculations and I drew some plans.

And I went to Home Depot and bought some wood lumber (there’s a possibility that they cut it for me at Home Depot but this in no way diminishes my achievement) and I took it home and I measured some more and I got out my superfun cordless drill and screwed some stuff together. I even got out my newly purchased jigsaw and cut the little swoopies (that’s a technical term) on the back and sides. And after only four trips to Home Depot (including one aborted trip because the hammers were starting to be a temptation and I was afraid I’d use one to kill the Pea I ran out of time) I had a big ol’ storage bench for my kids to sit on in my kitchen.

Now for some of you this is not a major accomplishment. My husband’s family is full of very handy people. I’m not sure I’ve ever been to a gathering with his entire family in which the pouring of cement was not involved. In fact the first real family experience I had with those who were soon to be my in-laws was when we all gathered in Blanding (UT, hit Moab and head south for another hour) to finish Grandma and Grandpa’s basement. Not just normal finishing either. If I recall correctly we were framing walls, pulling wires (a talent that may come in handy soon Deb, we’ll be calling you), there may even have been some plumbing involved. Anyway, my point is that Sean would come by any handiness naturally (although there’s a possibility that that particular gene skipped a generation). His parents built a house, as in brick on brick, with their own two (four?) hands for cripes sake.

My family on the other hand. NOT HANDY. We don’t pour cement, we don’t frame walls, we can only just be prevailed upon to put up shelves (That’s a shout out to my fam and FHEs as a kid). We’ll argue politics or religion or music or movies or whatever with you all day (sometimes even if we don’t disagree with you) but we’re not much for getting things done.

But me I got it done.

Now I just have to sew a cushion for it.

It’s news to me April 28, 2008

I read a lot of blogs and It seems like most of those have at least one post discussing the funny phrases that people have typed into search engines to end up at their blogs (that phrasing seems weird, I’ll work on it). One such post even asked the readers to respond with stories of their own strange phrases that brought people to their blogs. Sadly, I couldn’t contribute because no search engine had ever delivered anyone to me. until yesterday. I now have my own list of things that people were looking for when they found me instead (obviously, they were not looking for me. Nobody’s looking for me.)

Two people (or maybe just one person but we’ll go with the two theory because that more) were looking for “Jason Statham” and “fotografias Jason Statham”. For those of you not familiar with my movie boyfriend this is him (he?):

If he looks familiar that’s because he looks like what Sean doesn’t look like here. I thought about just posting the same picture that I had before, as that would be more immediately recognizable to some of you, but this way I got to post another picture of him (and it’s not like you can have too many.)

And someone else got here looking up “daughter peeing her”. I can only suppose that pants is the word that follows that but that’s all they typed. Now that I think about it I have no idea why that combination of words would deliver anyone here, I can’t recall ever having blogged about my daughter (or indeed any of my kids) peeing their anything. But I could. Oh I could.

I realize that this is small potatoes to some of you more experienced bloggers. Some of you have truly amazing combinations of words that somehow lead to your door but this is what I got and it’s news to me.

PS I have a big (as in important, to me) post planned for the next day or two but I have to finish the project I’m planning to post about (before I post about the project that I finished). But in the mean time you can be excited for me. Thank you.

Love Letter April 26, 2008

My Dear Rewards Chart,

I now that you have only been a part of my life for a few short weeks but in that time I have come to value you more than you know. You truly have changed my life. I find myself thinking about you, the dishwasher needs to be emptied and I should do that OR I could leave it and surf the internet and let the Princess and the Pea earn points by emptying it, oh look Diana’s got a new post up… and talking about you, “Pea if you don’t get off Irish1’s big wheel right now I’m taking away a point,” all day long.

It is because of you that my children have goals. It is because of you that my children are willing to do something, anything to help me out. They fight less, dear Rewards Chart, and I attribute that to you.

It’s true, my darling, that our love has cost me something, nineteen dollars to be exact, but what I’ve gained in threat induced quiet, in lowered blood pressure, in not having to repeat myself ten times, surely that’s worth something. I think it’s worth a lot.

I know, my sweet, that whirlwind romances like ours often don’t last and there may come a day when the threat of losing points does not inspire the instant obedience that I have enjoyed these last weeks but surely this is different, this is true love. We may lose some of the passion, we may lose some of the heat but I think this experience, this time with you has changed my on a fundamental level and I will never really be the same. And I believe we have many long, happy years ahead of us.

Thank you, my love, for all that you do for me. You are the light and the hope of my day and you bring solace to my nights. (Now if only you had a brother that would work with the twins…)

All my love,

Alison

I got nothing April 24, 2008

So I’ve been busily blogging in my head over the last week. Mentally composing some great posts including, but not limited to, an ode to the reward chart, construction plans, even possibly a bluebird post. All of these things I was planning on writing up during my two night shifts this week (I work every Tuesday and Wednesday night) since we’ve been really slow at night for the last few weeks. Unfortunately, every child in the western United States needed surgery sometime in the last two days so I had to operate instead. (I know, can you believe I had to work while I was at work?)

So in the absence of my brilliance I’ve decided to send you to read someone else’s. Ok, several other people’s.

This is my brother’s blog and it’s usually just about mortgages and mortgage rates and the bond market or something, (I don’t know, I don’t pay a lot of attention) and it’s BORING which is great if you’re into that kind of thing. But he’s my brother and I love him so I give it a look and every once in a while I’m rewarded by a fantastic touching and insightful post (there’s a quote for your book jacket Chris) like this one.

This is a link to my new favorite thing. Soap opera Sundays are super fun and very very addictive. I’ve even mentally composed one or two and may put them down for future posts if I can get up the courage to embarrass myself like that I decide that it’s interesting enough. But in the absence of my own soap opera I’ll link you to the first post of a very long but oddly engrossing soap opera that I spent most of one shift at work reading (did I mention that It was really slow the two or three weeks before this one?) You can find links to a lot of the rest of the story here. And from there you’re on your own because I really can’t do everything for you and you really should read Kate’s blog anyway (I talk like “Oh, she’s Kate, we’re best friends.” In reality I’ve never met the girl but I like her blog!) she makes me laugh.

Speaking of laughing, this was the first post (ok second, this one was first) I ever read of this blog and I seriously fell in love with this girl.

Oh and I’ll link you here because as a mother of four who’s been doing this mothering thing for nearly eight years and occasionally wants to kill her children (remember the Costco incident?) it’s very refreshing to see a new mother who’s still so in love with the idea of mothering that she gushes (in a good way).

And that’s all I have for today. Sorry folks but I’m tired and really really hungry. And I gotta hit the Home depot before the kids get home from school.

But He’s Five!!! -or- Keep on Driving April 16, 2008

So, the Pea decided not to come home from school yesterday.

He’s five.

Normally the Princess and the Pea ride their bikes home from school together and with a bunch of other kids. They normally arrive home together. Yesterday, the Princess showed up at home with a friend, and the friend’s sister. They asked for a snack, all the usual things. I was sitting on the couch watching my soaps and eating bon-bons (as I am wont to do) so I’m not sure why I didn’t notice that her brother wasn’t with her at first but I didn’t. It wasn’t until the Princess had been home for about ten minutes that I looked around (at my immaculately clean, sparkling kitchen) and asked where the Pea was.

“He went to Costco with his friend,” the Princess replied.

“What?”

“I told him he wasn’t allowed but he just went.”

Of course he’s not allowed, he’s five years old.

For the benefit of those who don’t know where I live I will tell you that there is a Costco at the end of our street. I can see it (well, the parking lot) from my house (well, the end of the driveway). This has been the source of much joy and felicitation on my part, but there are times (like when my children go there instead of coming home from school) that I wish there wasn’t a shopping center quite so close.

The Princess, who is almost eight, and the Pea, who’s five, had made the mistake of hitting Costco (the vending machines in the food court, specifically) on their way home from school before. I thought I had disabused them of the notion that that was acceptable. I thought I had disabused them of the notion that being on that side of the street was acceptable.

Apparently I didn’t hit them hard enough.

So, I told the friend, and her sister, that they would have to go home. I loaded Irish1 and Irish2 into the double stroller that my wonderful mother gave me (have to give mom her due now that I know), the Princess jumped on her bike and we headed to the end of the street.

There was no sign of the Pea or his bike at Costco.

Now I’m starting to worry. I know, I probably should have worried sooner but my children are VERY independent and this is not the first time the Pea has gone off somewhere on his own. This is the worst place he gone off on his own but it’s not the first time, back to my story.

Pushing the fantastic but enormous stroller we headed back across the parking lot so that I could go home and I could load the three children, whose whereabouts I had a handle on, into the van and we could drive the neighborhood looking for my five-year-old. Did I mention that the Pea is FIVE?

I was standing on the corner with the twins in the stroller and the Princess on the bike, waiting to cross the street and suddenly the Princess says, “there he is.”

Sure enough the Pea comes riding out of the parking lot.

I could have strangled him.

It was at this time that one of the cars driving by on the street between mine and Costco stopped for me. This is an ENOURMOUS pet-peeve of mine. If I am stupid enough to be in the middle of the street when you drive up, (I won’t be. EVER.) by all means, stop. But if I am waiting patiently on the sidewalk for a break in traffic KEEP DRIVING!!!!! I promise I will not step off the curb in front of your car. I will not run out into the road. I am perfectly capable of reading traffic patterns and crossing when the road is clear. And there is no need to inconvenience yourself as well as the people in the cars behind you by stopping and nearly getting hit. And I don’t want my children to think that the cars will just stop for them. (I am a jaywalker of the first order but I learned to jaywalk in Washington DC, I promise I won’t get hit as long as you don’t drive like an idiot.)

Sorry, I’m back. Anyway, this car stopped (nearly getting hit in the process) to let us cross and I who was still waiting for the Pea and in no mood to be civil, yelled at the people in the car. “JUST DRIVE, I’M A BIG GIRL AND I CAN CROSS THE STREET ALL BY MYSELF!” They drove on.

The Pea caught up with us and we crossed (incidentally, as we were crossing the people who had stopped for me, who had pulled into the Costco parking lot, got out of their car and yelled at me something about how that was no way to treat people who were just trying to be nice. They were right and I was ashamed of myself but the kids were half way across the street so I couldn’t go back and apologize. Besides I had a kid to kill.) Then the Pea and his sister took off on their bikes down the street to our house. When I got home he was on the swings in the backyard. As if all was well.

ALL WAS NOT WELL!

He spent the evening in his room (or he was supposed to but he is incapable of staying in his room, or anywhere else, or still) and he’s grounded, and he lost some points on our good behavior chart…

It turns out that he and “his friend” I boy that I only sort of know (and what I know I don’t particularly like) who is only about 7 or 8, didn’t go to Costco, they went to the mall behind the Costco to “get some stuff.”

“What stuff? You don’t have money,” I said. “And you don’t go to the mall without an adult and a purpose and you come right home from school and you don’t …”

Long story short (too late), the Pea should never be allowed to leave the house again. But he will. And things like this should never happen again. But they will. And I just don’t know what to do about it. So if you see me by the side of the road and you feel like you want to help me out, to give me a break, just keep on driving.

Run Faster Than a Locamotive, Jump Tall Buildings in a Single Bound April 14, 2008

I had a roommate in college who always told the greatest stories. They were interesting and funny and always came to the perfect entertaining conclusion. It wasn’t until we had lived together for about six months that I realized why that was.

She was telling a story to some mutual friends when I realized that I had been there when that particular anecdote happened. And it hadn’t happened the way she was telling it. Not that it was completely wrong, she had just rearranged a few things, added and deleted some details, that kind of thing. I realized this about the time she was bringing her story to the perfect humorous conclusion and I turned to her and said, “that’s not how that happened.”

“I know,” she replied, without batting an eye, “but I like the story better this way.”

Bear that in mind when reading my posts, the way I write it may not be exactly the way it happened but I like the story better this way. Besides, I’m a novelist, not an essayist. What do you expect?

(There was some discussion on MMW about the following and kids here, I don’t think I chimed in then but I did know that Sean has some weirdness in this area. I just didn’t think it was quite this bad.)

I was going through the credit card statement yesterday, trying to figure out how on earth we could possibly owe as much as the number at the top says that we do, and I saw a few charges that I knew weren’t mine.

“$100 on Ebay?” I asked Sean.

“I bought some mumble mumble mumble,” he says. “But I’ve got some stuff I’m going to list.”

He’s always got some stuff he’s going to list. Sometimes he even lists it. Sometimes not. But I didn’t pursue it because another charge caught my eye.

“$72 to Nike.com?” I ask.

“Yeah,” Sean says, not elaborating.

“On what?” I ask.

“What? you want a bottle?” Sean’s attention is fixed on Irish1. He holds out his hand, Irish1 takes it and they exit the room.

About five minutes later when Irish1 is happily drinking his bottle. I ask again.

“$72 on Nike.com?”

“Here, let me load up the game for you.” He holds out his hand for the Princess and the Pea because obviously they can’t load a playstation 2 game on their own. And apparently doing so requires his whole concentration, because he still doesn’t answer me.

A few minutes later, the Princess and the Pea both happily occupied playing Sly 3, Irish1 happily drinking his bottle, I try again. “What did you buy on Nike.com for $72?”

“You remember,” he says “I bought those socks but they were the wrong ones so I sent them back and they sent me the right ones.”

I don’t remember, (who can keep track of his socks?) but this is one charge, not two and there’s no refund and recharge so apparently there was no difference in price on the “right” socks. Which means… he spent $72 on… SOCKS?!!!!! I’m grasping for something to say. Several very rude and sarcastic options come to mind. In the interest of my marriage I say nothing.

I can’t stop myself though, from mentioning it to my sisters on facebook. (We have a group there and we chat on a daily, if not hourly, basis.)

“How many socks?” They ask.

Well, that’s a good point maybe it was a lot of socks, I doubt it, but maybe it was.

So that night I ask him, “how many socks did you get for $72 on Nike.com?”

L-O-N-G pause. Sigh. “Eight,” he finally says.

8?? Eight!!!! There’s only one way 8 socks are worth $72.

“Do these socks give you superpowers?”

____________________________________________________

Ok, so that last part didn’t happen but the rest of it I promise, cross my heart and hope to die, is true. After he told me 8, OK it might have been 8 pair (which is still way too much to spend on socks) I actually didn’t say anything at all.

But I like the story better the other way.

‘Tis the season April 11, 2008

That’s right, it’s spring(ish) when a young man’s fancy to thoughts of bugs. Yes, it’s a magical time, a time when my children delight in playing in the yard, in riding their bikes up and down the street, and in pulling up my paving stones and the rock edges of my flower beds, leaving them strewn haphazardly about the yard, and finding potato bugs.

When I was a kid (yes, back before the earth’s crust had cooled) we called them roly-polies. I’m not sure if the difference is a location thing (I grew up in Virginia) or a timing issue but I looked them up (what would I do without google and wikipedia?) and found out that they’re actually woodlice.

Let me tell you how stoked I am to have my children bringing lice of any kind into my home.

Not very.

Actually I’m not sure if they’re technically woodlice or pill millipedes, having not checked whether they have two sets of legs per body segment (millipede) or just one (woodlouse). Now that I think about it, given the sheer volume of discovered, and captured, insect life, we probably have both. We also have worms.

Now, I’m not particularly squeamish, although now that I’ve put the woodlice name on the potato bugs I find that I like them a lot less (a woodlouse by any other name…) but I did finally have to banish the bugs, the “new pets,” outside (as I would any real pet) when I caught the kids taking them out of the jar and letting them crawl up their arms.

And dropping them.

I don’t really need them crawling around my living room.

On a completely unrelated note The Princess today informed the Pea that Hannah Montana was the “most famous pop-star.” Oy vey.

Rejoice!!! April 7, 2008

MY KIDS GO BACK TO SCHOOL TOMORROW!!!

I’m so excited I may go to bed early just so that tomorrow will come sooner. (And so that I can get up with the Princess at the bum crack of dawn.)

Be all that you can be. April 2, 2008

A few weeks ago one of the doctors that I work with, I’ll call him Dr. Demento (because I can) said to me “Alison, you’re smart why aren’t you a doctor?” (My “smartness” had been demonstrated earlier in the day when I used the term non-sequitur correctly. What can I say, I like big words. Look up intertriginous and try using that one in a sentence this week!) back to my point.

This is not the first time I’ve met up with this attitude. The idea behind it is that everyone wants to be a doctor (or lawyer, or corporate giant) but not all of them can because they’re not smart enough. But if they were smart enough they definitely would.

I’m not a doctor because I DON’T WANT TO BE A DOCTOR! I’m smart enough (and good enough and gosh darn it people like me.) I chose not to be a doctor because I chose to be something else instead.

My whole life I wanted to be a stay at home mom. That was what my mom was and I thought that that was far and away the best thing for kids. (I may still think that, I’m not sure.) Well, it didn’t work out and I have to work. And I freely admit I like to work. Once I actually had kids I realized that I probably wasn’t cut out to be a stay at home mom (I don’t have the right temperament for it) luckily Sean was cut out to be a more involved father then most and we’ve worked out a life that works really well for us.

I work at a hospital. But unlike a doctor I don’t live there. And I wasn’t ever a resident so, I never have. When I’m off I’m off, I don’t agonize over patients, I don’t second guess my decisions, I don’t have any follow up whatsoever and I don’t have any deaths on my conscience. I have enough responsibility at home with my four kids, I don’t need it at work too.

Speaking of my four children. If I were a doctor I wouldn’t have them. I know plenty of doctors who have a bunch of kids and I know plenty of doctors whose spouses work full time. But I don’t know any doctors who have a load of kids whose spouses also work full time.

“But Alison,” you say, “if you made the kind of money doctors do Sean wouldn’t have to work full time.”

Maybe not but he would anyway, he goes a little stir crazy when he doesn’t get out of the house enough and he likes his job.

Speaking of money, let’s examine that for a minute. Despite what most of the doctors I know will tell you, doctors make a lot of money. (Doctorin’s not quite the cash cow it used to be but habitat for humanity won’t be building a house for a physician anytime soon.) I would love to make more money. I would love to not have a reason to know that you can float a check at Costco but you CANNOT float a check at wal-mart.

However, If I made doctor money I’d probably do something doctory like get a nanny. (By the way, as far as I know, EVERY ONE of those docs with a spouse who works has a nanny.  And I don’t know one female doctor with kids who doesn’t have one.) There’s nothing overtly wrong with having a nanny but I had kids so that I could raise them, not so that I could hire someone to do that for me. I may not be a SAHM but I know that the real raising is done while trying to make lunches and entertain children and do the dishes all at the same time. If I had a nanny, or the resources to have a nanny, I wouldn’t do that. The nanny would entertain the kids while I did the dishes and made lunch. That may just be me. Now that I think about it, this argument is really less about nannies and more about me with the option of a nanny. But it works out the same.

We could debate all day about whether it’s possible to do both but frankly I’m not interested. I may not have a job that’s universally recognized and respected. I may not make a whole heck of a lot of money. I may have puke, poop and/or spit-up on 90% of my clothes. But this is the life I chose and I like it.