What a Hunk!

I usually have to share this guy with these Daddy Hogs.

But tonight I get my man all to myself.

Yay for date night!

And double YAY {yay} for free babysitters! =)

Relationship Investment

When we got our tax return last month and began allocating the funds to various debts and savings, we decided we needed to invest a little of it into our relationship, of which we owed a great debt.

So we booked a Marriott hotel for an awesome discount, because Greg knows a guy who knows a guy, and then we waited with huge anticipation for our anniversary trip to arrive one month later.

We have never been away from our children together. [wait, I take that back. When Evan was 10 months old we did a one-night anniversary stay, but we missed him so much that we checked out early the next morning and ran right back to get him. Pathetic! So it shouldn't really count.] Two more kids and many years later, I'm sure you can understand that we were in dire need of a get-away.

We arranged for Tara to watch our kids for two nights. She lives an hour away in Provo. Tara asked if we were staying up in Park City or somewhere nice. I cringed. "We're actually just staying in Provo. But I didn't want to tell you because I feel bad that we are so close and I don't want to see my kids..." Is that bad???

* Trip Highlights *

* Eating Out - we wanted to try something "different" each time. But we learned that often "different" is unfortunately synonymous with "disappointment" - though still a good experience

* Getting to see this amazing Art Exhibit and tearing up while standing before this original masterpiece -- Indescribable! *Parking in the "Visitor Lot" at BYU. That was such an exhilirating simple pleasure. Simply because it was always off-limits as a student.

*Walking around the Museum of Art and BYU Campus and feeling like I was home.

*Checking out this amazing art installation. Made entirely of books. Incredible!

* Doing our best to act like newly weds and even stealing a kiss or two in the elevators

* Finally getting a BYU t-shirt after all of the years attending and alumning - and I LOVE it.

* Smoking Greg at bowling. Super huge highlight. * Going out to the movies and playing around in the arcade. I always go to the Big Game Hunter for some reason and Greg spent most of his time on the pinball machine in the corner. He is really quite a pro at pinball. It's almost fascinating to watch if it weren't such a waste of time. :) Me? - I'd rather be killing things.

*Sleeping in - well, almost. It's hard to wean your body off of those 7 am wake up calls for a quick holiday. I did discover, though, that my head and hotel pillows do not coincide well together. Reminder: next time, I'm packing my own pillow, shampoo, and conditioner.

*Holding Greg's hand instead of a diaper bag.

*Realizing that we do still have things to talk about. And just reconnecting.

** a SOLID investment indeed

* and of course *** seeing our three little ones after two days apart. I think they were excited to see us too.

Story of Us

Aren't old pictures great?! It's so funny to see how Young couples look in their old photos. In fact, Evan doesn't think the man in our wedding pictures is Daddy because he doesn't have grey hair. So I have to point out some of the salt-and-pepper flecks to assure him that, indeed it is his Daddy that Mommy is kissing.

Just like old pictures are great, so are old stories. So here's an old story. The story of us.

Our's begins long before we were born, and even before our parents were born. My grandpa Evan and Greg's grandpa Grant (both of whom our eldest, "Evan Grant", is named after) used to raise and break horses together. I don't know much of their story beyond that, other than it fostered a deep friendship between the Palmer and Porter families and when both of our fathers went to Mesa High together, that friendship continued.

Growing up, I always knew of the Palmer family. Their Dad worked with mine at the cabinet shop. They were cute, cowboy kids that would come over and feed their horses we sometimes boarded in our pasture. And their dad would take us horse-back riding in the Arizona desert now and again.

But after about the age of 10 I never saw much more of the Palmer clan.

Enter summer 2001. I was home from BYU for the summer ready to live up my care-free studiless months. I attended institute once a week with a friend of mine, where one evening I ran into a face I recognized from long ago.

"You're a Porter, right?"

"Yeah. Aren't you a Palmer?"

And so, it began.

We went on a couple dates at the end of the summer. I was, of course, infatuated with his grey hair, penetrating blue eyes, and infectious smile. But he never called me again, and I went back up to BYU with a different suitor on my mind.

From out-of-the-blue, a few weeks later, came a surprising email from grey Greg. I broke protocol and wrote him back immediately, and he double-broke it by replying the same day. That began our long-distance "online dating," which was soon followed by late-into-the-night phone conversations, and a much anticipated meeting in November. His trip up to Utah pretty much sealed the deal and I was head-over-heels in no time. (Despite an unexpected visit from that other aforementioned Arizona suitor whom I hadn't heard from in months and was stunned to see standing at my door as I readied myself for a date with Greg. Talk about a shocker! But that's a whole other story.)

Thanksgiving provided a trip down to Arizona where we each met the fams (for realsies). I don't think either families had ever been so excited at the prospect of welcoming the other to their circle. It was almost like it had all been arranged at birth.

During my finals week at BYU, Greg came up to visit and take me back home for Christmas. Strange thing was, he showed up in my Dad's truck! I found out why the next night, when after a picture-perfect evening with Greg at Temple Square, he told me that the truck wasn't the only thing my Dad had given him. He had also given his permission! Then he knelt down on one knee and asked me to be his wife. Yes!

So we loaded my belongings up in that-there truck and moved back home for a semester's break, full of wedding plans, a ceremony, and the beginning of a brand new life. One full of ups and downs and dips and turns, and tremendous highs because I get to navigate it all with my best friend at my side.

I was just reading in my journal a bit of what I wrote about Greg when we were still dating:

He is hilarious, good looking, smart, spiritual, chivalrous, romantic, sings well, and he's Humble.

I couldn't imagine a more wonderful and perfect guy except in my dreams.

We are so similar in our wishes and hopes and philosophies. I love that. We can talk for hours and hours.

He is definitely worth my very best efforts.

And still is.

Happy 9th Anniversary Love!

The Comedy in Life

Yesterday was Comical.

Our dryer had stopped working. When Greg tried to fix it, I heard him yelling for me from the laundry room. This is what I saw...
... And he was stuck! So so sooooo funny! I did my best to help him up, but couldn't. So I grabbed a camera instead. :)

Then we went to the park to fly a kite. The wind was intermittant, so Greg had to run. He ran and ran and ran that kite. And I watched as he ran it right into the very TIP TIP TOP of a tree.

Then, while holding Greg up on the ladder I had run home to get, Taryn decided to help herself to the lawn-aerated pellets covering the park's grass that look more like fecal matter than anything else. I asked Evan to intercede, and he stuck his finger in her mouth to get her to spit it out. By instinct, he demonstrated to her what she needed to do, and he spit right in her face. Then his gag reflex overcame him and he whined and threw up in the grass.

I couldn't help but think the whole situation was just a riot.

Scaredy Cat

I am one big Scaredy Cat. Always have been. I am absolutely terrified of the dark. Maybe not the dark so much as being alone in the dark. Chalk it up to one more side-effect of a twin and not being accustomed to being alone. Who knows. But man, that thick, enveloping, black stuff called the night, gives me the creeps. So on evenings when my vapor-slashing knight in shining armor is out working late, I cower and cringe until he comes to my rescue.

Usually I'll just sit on the couch and watch t.v., waiting and hoping that any minute he will come through the door. This often continues until way too late because I am unable to move from the fear. But when the hours continue to tick by and I know the best place for me would be in bed, then I summon up my courage and attempt to make the rounds in preparing the house for sleep as well.

But sometimes the lights in the basement are on. That is my double adversary. If there is anything that can scare me more than the dark, then it is a dark basement. {This fear is most likely due to my older brother, whose bedroom lair was in our basement and he would guard it with animal roars and ghost-like boos if he heard us creeping down the stairs for a visit}.

So when it comes time for me to turn off the lights in our basement, I do it in a Flo-Jo sprint and hurdle back up the stairs. Or sometimes I just don't do it at all. Too frightened. I hurry up to my bedroom, strip off my clothes and earnestly throw pjs on. Then, with much apprehension, I flip the switch and jump into bed and under my covers. With my heart still racing, I will try to find some calm and then perhaps, drift into dreamland.

But mostly I just wait, like the damsel in distress that I am, until I feel the warmth of his arms encircle me. Then I relax. The world is bright again and I am safe.

Top 8 of 8 Years

8. Lying side by side in the grass and talking under the moonlight.

7. The family hike we took to the waterfall. Watching you trek-it with Zion on your shoulders and then bond with Evan under the falls. Contemplating how our family has grown and being so thrilled that you are my husband and, even better, the father of our children.

6. Both getting sick at Magic Mountain and finding comfort in the realization that at least we were growing old together.

5. Every time you hold me in your arms and we get to really talk with eachother. Those are precious moments and I relish in every minute.

4. Watching you carefully and lovingly hold each of our brand new little babes. There is an indescribable emotion that overwhelms me when I get to witness that moment. It is beautiful.

3. When you "broke the ice" with me on our wedding day. Still brings a smile to my face.

2. Painting the bedroom with you while both scantily clad. I loved watching you up on that ladder. It was so much fun, even though we were both too exhausted afterward to do anything about it.

1. Taking you to Babies R Us to announce the news of our growing family. The smile on your face was magical and the embrace we shared is still my most favorite hug of our marriage. It is a moment I will never forget

Happy Anniversary Love! Let's shoot to make these next EIGHT even better.

I LOVE YOU

Ring on my Finger

Mar 28

It’s been nearly two weeks and I hoped to have good news.

Did you know Greg and I celebrated our 7^th anniversary earlier this month? We did. Seven beautiful, short, long, dramatic, life-altering, difficult, easy, tearful, and joyful years. I had every intention of blogging a thoughtful message about how much I have enjoyed being married and what a great husband and father I have in my home. But I became distracted.

I busied myself that snowy Monday. There was a lot of housework to do and I was anxious to get it done so I could enjoy a care-free evening with my man. I did the dishes, 4 loads of laundry, cleaned the toilet, vacuumed, took the garbage out, and of course, all while taking care of the kids.

Finally, I had a chance to shower and get myself decent-looking for a date with my hubby. While blow-drying my hair I noticed it: an empty, left ring-finger.

Remember when I lost my ring last month? After that happened I wondered what I should do about the looseness of my ring. Should I get it resized? But I'm going to be pregnant during the summer. I'm sure I will need it to be this big. Do I just not wear it? No way, an afternoon without it on my finger was long enough. Though it was certainly very loose, it never slipped off without some effort. So I decided it was safe to leave it dangling on my finger. But now that my finger was empty, I quickly rethought that decision.

I made a list of all the things I had done that day and looked everywhere. This was much more difficult than combing through a known circumference of grass. This time it could be Anywhere! And the metal detector would not be nearly as useful in a fully-framed home with metal nails every square foot. I looked and looked. What a day of all days to lose my ring!

I didn't even want to go on our anniversary date. But Greg persuaded me and a trip afterward to the grocery store to buy some Mormon bubbly and a container of readiwhip to spice up the evening helped me momentarily forget my gloom.

A week passed and still no sign of my precious jewel. I began to consign myself to the idea that it would most likely not be found until the day, however near or far it may be, that we move from this house.

I told my piano students about my plight and bribed them with $5 if they could find my ring. They looked with enthusiasm for about 3 minutes. I was asked, "Do you have a jewelry box you might have left it in?" If only it were that simple. They did even look in the string box of my grand piano. Wouldn't that have been something if it had magically appeared in there for some reason? But alas, no such luck.

Another week passed along with my optimism. I asked Greg to do a load of laundry while I bathed the kids. He came up the stairs momentarily and asked, "Do I get the $5?"

My knight in shining armor came through again. And my still dull, but dazzling ring lay between his fingers once more. The tears instantly appeared.

It's been nearly two weeks and I Do have good news!

Now I just need to find where I put that $5 bill.

Hands Free

I felt like a newlywed in Sunday School today. It was the first time in nearly THREE years that I have not had a baby sitting on my lap, or begging for cheerios, or running around the foyer, or screaming in my ear, or sleeping on my shoulder.

My little girl went to nursery today along with her big brother. That left my hands free for other tasks: like holding my husband's hand! I even gave him a little back scratch (that was the part that made me feel like a newly wed). And get this - I was able to get out my scriptures and read along in the lesson. What a novelty.

It was so great. And it is so wonderful to have nursery teachers that are willing to watch my little ones for two hours each Sunday. And even better that my kids love to go to class. I feel so blessed. Now I get to sit back and enjoy these next 3 months before my hands suddenly become full again.

Treasure Hunting

A part of me became lost last week. After Evan fell down in the snow in our backyard, I wiped his hind end off. During this process I felt my wedding ring loosen on my finger and then suddenly it was gone.

There have been times when I thought my ring was cheap. No, not cheap. That's not the right word - Simple. And it is simple, but that's what I have always loved about it. Greg picked it out himself, and did a marvelous job. But as I've seen some of my friends become engaged and married, I have marveled at their rings. Most are comparable to mine - modest. But then there are some that I can't help envy a little. Platinum, diamond crusted, rows and tiers, and of course the price tag. I have friends with rings close to or into the double-digit thousands. I've seen the receipt for mine. And at different times in our marriage it's monetary worth has had a different value.

When it was first placed on my finger it felt like a bag of gold bricks. I held the bulk of my fiance's savings on one little finger. That seemed a huge responsibility. Later in our marriage, there were moments - brief moments - when I would occasionally look at that same ring and think it was piddly and I wanted something bigger (brief brief moments). But most thoughts on the subject include my love for its simple elegance and the way it magically transforms my monstrous fingers into something dainty.

Then there are moments like last week when that simple and yet stunning ring suddenly embodied a fortune again - both monetarily and emotionally. And when I could not see it atop the snow packs, I started to panic.

Evan joined me in the search, running back and forth atop the snow and grass, telling me it was this way or that way, while I took a more calculated, inch-by-inch approach.

We said a prayer together. How I hoped it would be one of those instant miracles and awesome teaching moments. But it wasn't.

I called Greg. I reigned in my panic. He soothed me nonetheless. He could sense the emotions I was not sharing. It could be anywhere in our backyard. But at least we knew it was in the yard. He calmed my fears and said if we couldn't find it we would use a metal detector.

During nap time I went out with a fork and started sifting through the white sands of ice. The sun sparkled off the snowy pebbles and I kept imagining it was the reflection from my diamond.

Thoughts of panning for gold came to mind. And then I remembered my treasure-hunting neighbor. He was Greg's former home-teaching companion and boy oh boy the stories Greg would share after their visits. There was my answer.

He was out of town. But yes, they had two metal detectors. Salvation! But she didn't know how to use them. I borrowed one and tempted my knowledge of fine-tuned machinery. It is poor.

The sun was getting low as I waited for my more technologically-savvy counterpart to return home. My fingers kept moving to my left ring finger out of habit. I like to play with my wedding ring. But there was none for me to toy with. That piece of me was missing.

Upon his arrival, we went out together and he tested the detector on something he knew was metal so he could listen and compare the results. I watched disappointingly as he would come across a lot of metal tubing far beneath the grassy surface and waited with bated breath after each squeal of the machine.

Finally it was time to change a dirty diaper. While standing there with soiled wipes in hand, Greg came up the stairs with a huge smile. He stooped down on one knee and asked me to marry him. Between the fingers of his out-stretched hand stood my ring. It was beautiful. More dazzling, more elegant, more perfect than the first time I laid eyes on it.

It's value has increased ten fold since that first giddy moment. I never take it off and each scratch and foggy diamond corner has been earned. It's been on my finger through all times good and bad. A constant symbol and reminder. That I am loved.

And I felt complete again.

Top 5

Top 5 reasons I love my husband's new boss (himself)

1. He makes my husband happy
2. He allows Greg to come home for lunch
3. I don't mind Greg working late for this new boss because this time there's a prospect of a bonus when a job gets done
   
4. He's pleased when Greg does good work
5. He encourages mid-morning rendezvous (wink wink)

Some kitchen cabinets Greg recently made and installed

Inspiration

I have recently been inspired by a number of love stories. Not just those of romance and fairy tales, but the long-suffering, unconditional kind. The stories that make you weep from pain and then sob with joy. This is the element of love that creates a classic. And it is something that can be shared not only between husband and wife, but also parents and children. I look at families with this type of "love life" and think I wish - then I realized, I already have. My life is full of my own personal love stories. If I just look at it with that kind of perspective and not a sinister and envious one (which has become so easy to do), it abounds with love.

I hope for this blog to be a way for me to document the little love stories I witness daily. I want it to be a record my children can revert to in the future when they may, as teenagers often do, question the love their mother has for them. And most importantly, I want them to know unequivocally that I love their father. That he is the prince in my own ordinary, yet extraordinary, romance. I have had occasion recently to doubt that parental love in my own life and I never want my children to feel that kind of emptiness.

Let there never be a doubt.

You may ask, why not just write in my journal? Good question. I guess there are a few reasons:

1. Since being out of school for a number of years now I have noticed that my hand cramps within 30 seconds of non-stop writing. This is unfortunate since I have always had a shameful pride in my penmanship.
2. I figure the internet is most likely not going to be destroyed in a fire.
3. Though I am creating this blog for the benefit of my children and husband (and myself), perhaps others may benefit in the process.

I don't expect a following on this journey. But I am looking forward to it, nonetheless. Like Shakespeare said, "They do not love that do not show their love." I need to show my love more - and not only my love but the love that I witness in others and even in the things around me. I am confident that by making this effort I will love more. And the world around me will be better for it.