Dirty Laundry

It was laundry day. Nothing *romantic* to write about that.

Also, dishes day (every day). Doubly *unromantic* unless it’s the hubby doing those dishes and then suddenly it turns into fantastic foreplay. But that’s probably just me.

This kind of day comes with lots of negatives. Not just the negative of drowning in housework, but the negatives I repeatedly hear escaping my lips.

No

Don’t touch that

Don’t mess up the piles

Put the silverware back in the dishwasher

No!

Get out of here

Stop playing in the dirty clothes

Not right now

Don’t touch that!

Put that back

Take the dirty bowl off of your head

Get off the clean clothes pile

Go watch t.v.!

I just folded that!

Don’t touch!

No! No! No!

{met with lots of hard, deliberate sign language as well to really get my point across}

*sigh*

I realize this is most likely a typical scene in most households on any given day. It comes with the territory of raising little ones. But I despise the person I turn into in these moments. It’s hard to stay positive, to be positive when every other word out of your mouth is *NO* or *DON’T*.

[insert 20 minute break]

Here is where I was hoping to put some sort of positive spin on things and wrap this post up light-heartedly.

But it’s laundry day. So this is me airing out my dirty laundry.

Should be dry by tomorrow.

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.

The Best Part Week - Day 1

In order to help me be more positive in my day-to-day thinking, I've decided I want to take this week to each day describe the best parts of that day.

- My baby's fever broke during the night. When I came in to rescue her from the crib in the morning, her hair was fantastically curly from the sweat and had as much body and shine as a Pantene commercial. It was awesome.

- I talked to my older sister for a while on the phone. I can't believe it's been nearly three years since we've seen eachother. We've never even met eachother's babies! Boy am I glad for phones. I just love talking to her.

- I treated my kids to lunch at a "restaurant with a park" - and it was FREE. Thanks to Dr. Jackson DDS who awarded my kids Del Taco gift certificates after their last check up.

- All three kiddos went down for naps in the afternoon and I got to lay next to Zion, who naps in my bed, and catch a wink or two. And she didn't even cough in my face as she has done the last few days when I've tried to sneak a nap with her.

- A neighbor came over and we got to sit on the couch and chit chat. We were very nearly yelling at eachother over the raucous of our children instigating car crashes, but nevertheless, it was nice to chat.

- I made dinner! It was a new tater tot casserole recipe, which to my pleasure, turned out more like funeral potatoes. Those are my favorite - and the very best part of any funeral I say.

- Greg came home and spared me some time to finally take a shower. And it was a long one.

- The best part of the day was snuggling in bed with my handsome hubby in our newly rearranged bedroom [I've been wanting to decorate our bedroom, but as we are lacking the funds for such things, I decided a new arrangement of the furniture would suffice] and watching a movie together.

It was a good day indeed.

TMI? - Probably

I call it the Mamita Factor.

Every mother dreams of her son going on a mission, working hard, strengthening their testimony, and learning life skills. You know the life skills I'm talking about - some of those domestic ones that inherently come with living on your own. Cooking - even if it is just tuna mac, cleaning, ironing, picking up after yourself. Things like that. Right? Am I wrong here?

Well, imagine a mission where all of those things were done for you. Glorious right?

Maybe for the missionary. But not for the future wife! The repercussions of this are dreadful for the wife-to-be.

On Greg's mission in Chile the missionaries live with "Mamitas". They are usually single or widowed older ladies who open their homes to the missionaries. They get room and board, someone to cook them all their meals, do their laundry, iron their shirts (and even their garments!), wash their dishes, clean up their messes... you get the idea. {sigh} Wouldn't that be something!!?

Needless to say, from that experience, Greg lacked growth in those skills. So I am still trying to cultivate him to some degree.

He has one weekly chore at our house. Granted, he helps willingly in other areas when he is asked. But I hate having to ask and I especially hate being a nag. So the one chore that is assigned to him, I try to bite my tongue about when I see weeks of neglect go by. The one chore you ask? Garbage. Yes, garbage. And weeks go by? Yes and Yuck! Especially when the leftovers of that lovely time of the month sit and sit and sit in the bathroom waste basket.

I know I know. I should just take care of it.

Especially since something like that is my mess.

I know.

But I'm trying to teach a lesson here. Right? Or am I the only one getting the point of that lesson?

The other day I found Taryn walking around with something in her mouth and hand. Something that looked like it did not belong in either.

"Taryn, what do you have?"

She bolts, like she always does.

I catch up to her.

What do I find?

An old and used, wrapped up maxi pad!

******************

Time to give in?

Nah!

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.