I'm at the point in my life where I have a teen with a learner's permit...when did that happen??? Makenzie started driving yesterday and I can't believe it!! I'm old!
Sunday, November 11, 2012
Happy Birthday Kelly!
So, about 21 years and three weeks ago, I started dating this guy. I was a nanny in Virginia, he was an intern in Virginia. We met at church. (There is a long, crazy story behind this, but this post is not about me, my clumsiness, nor my ensuing scheming, so we'll save that for another day). Anyway, 21years and three months ago, I started dating this guy...
He was a good guy, I could tell. It wasn't because he opened car doors for me, because he didn't. His passenger side door wouldn't open from the outside, so he would have to get in and lean over to open my door. It may have had something to do with the fact that he just kissed me on my forehead on a night where he probably deserved a real kiss, and that he sat hungry and watched me eat a cheeseburger, fries and key lime pie that he boght me on a night when that's all the money he had in his wallet! (I didn't know that at the time, or I would have shared!) It had a little bit to do with the fact that he knew, loved, and owned the music to "Somewhere in Time," which was a must for any man I would seriously consider marrying, and I asked him if he had heard it on date #2 I think. I was 19 and immature when I met him, but smart enough to know he was a keeper pretty early on.
3 weeks after our first "date," we celebrated his 25th birthday together with friends. I wrote him a poem in a card about being a quarter of a century old...then I taped a quarter into the card. I bought him the soundtrack of 'Dances with Wolves' on cassette (we're sooo old!), because John Barry of Somewhere in Time fame had also composed that music and I knew he would love it! We watched the movie together on our official first date! I also gave him a mug with Hershey kisses and hugs in it. Well, he kept the mug but gave away the candy and he spent the quarter...but he wore out the cassette in his Walkman, so that's okay.
So now it's 20 years of marriage and 5 kids later...wow! Today is his birthday and he's...older than 25! :) He's a wonderful husband and a great father and people love him. They love him because he's kind...to everyone...even, and especially those whom others are not kind too. He always has time to talk to people; friends, family, co-workers and strangers. There are homeless people that are on a first name basis with him...not because he's always given them money, but because he's always talked to them. It's a running joke in our family that the homeless and mentally ill are attracted to Kelly - and it's true. He's been approached by so many different people over the years that I know they can sense the kindness and sincerity in his spirit. He is honest to a fault (don't ask him how you look in something if you don't really want to know) and works harder than anyone I know. I don't think he always gets all the credit he deserves, but he's humble and just keeps on keepin' on. He does what he's supposed to, when he's supposed to and how he's supposed to. He's not perfect, (if you've read other posts you know that), but he's perfect for me. He's so much nicer to me than I am to him. He will do anything for me that I ask, including, but not limited to, getting up at 1am to get me socks for my cold feet, a drink of water, Tylenol or a barfing kid. He'll do anything for our kids; pick them up late from movies, get up early to take them to basketball, make a midnight run to a.m./p.m. for nachos and soda...you get the picture? He'll do almost anything to help anyone, and yes, I have occasionally had to put my foot down- but that's who he is. The only times he's not nice is if you mess with me, then heaven help you!
What a blessing for parents to have a son like that. I hope our kids will follow his example of service and Christ-like love for others. Now that I have known him for almost a quarter of a century, I can honestly say I am the luckiest girl in the world. Love that guy!! Happy Birthday!
He was a good guy, I could tell. It wasn't because he opened car doors for me, because he didn't. His passenger side door wouldn't open from the outside, so he would have to get in and lean over to open my door. It may have had something to do with the fact that he just kissed me on my forehead on a night where he probably deserved a real kiss, and that he sat hungry and watched me eat a cheeseburger, fries and key lime pie that he boght me on a night when that's all the money he had in his wallet! (I didn't know that at the time, or I would have shared!) It had a little bit to do with the fact that he knew, loved, and owned the music to "Somewhere in Time," which was a must for any man I would seriously consider marrying, and I asked him if he had heard it on date #2 I think. I was 19 and immature when I met him, but smart enough to know he was a keeper pretty early on.
3 weeks after our first "date," we celebrated his 25th birthday together with friends. I wrote him a poem in a card about being a quarter of a century old...then I taped a quarter into the card. I bought him the soundtrack of 'Dances with Wolves' on cassette (we're sooo old!), because John Barry of Somewhere in Time fame had also composed that music and I knew he would love it! We watched the movie together on our official first date! I also gave him a mug with Hershey kisses and hugs in it. Well, he kept the mug but gave away the candy and he spent the quarter...but he wore out the cassette in his Walkman, so that's okay.
So now it's 20 years of marriage and 5 kids later...wow! Today is his birthday and he's...older than 25! :) He's a wonderful husband and a great father and people love him. They love him because he's kind...to everyone...even, and especially those whom others are not kind too. He always has time to talk to people; friends, family, co-workers and strangers. There are homeless people that are on a first name basis with him...not because he's always given them money, but because he's always talked to them. It's a running joke in our family that the homeless and mentally ill are attracted to Kelly - and it's true. He's been approached by so many different people over the years that I know they can sense the kindness and sincerity in his spirit. He is honest to a fault (don't ask him how you look in something if you don't really want to know) and works harder than anyone I know. I don't think he always gets all the credit he deserves, but he's humble and just keeps on keepin' on. He does what he's supposed to, when he's supposed to and how he's supposed to. He's not perfect, (if you've read other posts you know that), but he's perfect for me. He's so much nicer to me than I am to him. He will do anything for me that I ask, including, but not limited to, getting up at 1am to get me socks for my cold feet, a drink of water, Tylenol or a barfing kid. He'll do anything for our kids; pick them up late from movies, get up early to take them to basketball, make a midnight run to a.m./p.m. for nachos and soda...you get the picture? He'll do almost anything to help anyone, and yes, I have occasionally had to put my foot down- but that's who he is. The only times he's not nice is if you mess with me, then heaven help you!
What a blessing for parents to have a son like that. I hope our kids will follow his example of service and Christ-like love for others. Now that I have known him for almost a quarter of a century, I can honestly say I am the luckiest girl in the world. Love that guy!! Happy Birthday!
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
What's on the inside...
*I wrote this inFebruary on my old blog-but this is how I was feeling today and I'm thinking of abandoning the other one (shhh)...so, I put it here. Maybe it will motivate me to get my crap together if I know someone read it!
Well, I did it. I finished off half a bag of peanut butter m&m's after having corn bread with honey butter for breakfast and before having Ramen noodles for lunch! I think date night tonight may involve a trip to find some pants in a bigger size...'cause I'm beginning to run out of options.
Why does it have to be so hard? I don't expect to be able to eat crap all day and look like a super model, but do I have to eat carrots and celery and drink nothing but water and exercise 2 hours a day to not have a muffin front? (I guess it's a good thing, I don't really have love handles...but I'm sure they could be arranged!) I don't usually eat like I did today, sometimes it's worse, usually it's better, but I just want to be normal! I don't want to obsess about food and my body and what I'm going to wear.
I didn't go to our stake humanitarian project last night for a myriad of reasons, but at the top of the list was this: It was cold...even for California. The pants I was wearing were capris, which means you can really only wear sandals or slip ons without socks... no way! Besides, Kelly called them "Billy Ocean Pants" last night, as in 'painted on jeans,' so obviously I'm rethinking my decision to have worn them out of the house already. I had zero desire to go stand in my closet, stare blankly into space and hope (yet again) that something will magically appear for me to wear. I know what's in there...I see it every day, and it sees me every day...we kind of have a stand off going on. Am I going to lose weight or are they going to D.I.?
I am not trying to complain, there are a lot of problems people have out there and on the scale (ha ha) of things, this isn't a crisis- I am blessed beyond compare. But s.e.r.i.o.u.s.l.y, seriously! We are taught that our bodies shouldn't be our focus, and I agree, but while mine is clearly not my focus, I sure spend a lot of time thinking about it. I believe it's what's inside that counts the most...but when what's on the inside starts showing up on the outside.... whoa!
I'm kind of an all or nothing type of girl...I am either a clean freak, or my house is in shambles for a week or two. I either read my scriptures daily or I don't know where they are. I either hit the gym 5 to 6 days a week and throw away every bit of unhealthy food, or...NOT. I am trying to work on 'moderation in all things', an inspired idea...but it's hard when you're programmed to be 'all or nothing.' Thus, my on-going debate: I really love food and I love to eat. It makes me happy...not in a creepy, childhood trauma, "food is the only thing that loved me" kind of way, just in a "dang, that pasta is off the chain!" - kind of way. Take my Ramen noodles...reminds me of my Grammy. I ate them religiously at her house (and Vienna sausage). She would bring them to me when I stayed home from school, "sick." One time she brought me some and I fixed them after she left. Sadly, they were from her food storage and were full of weevil. To this day it remains one of the most disappointing moments in my life (told you I led a blessed life). I almost tried to eat it, but I couldn't do it. I know they're not good for me...but they're good! Chocolate cake is good, cheesecake, steak, sour cream, butter and ice cream, it's all good, and I'm never, never going to not eat some of it. I guess I just don't need to eat ALL of it.
Well, I did it. I finished off half a bag of peanut butter m&m's after having corn bread with honey butter for breakfast and before having Ramen noodles for lunch! I think date night tonight may involve a trip to find some pants in a bigger size...'cause I'm beginning to run out of options.
Why does it have to be so hard? I don't expect to be able to eat crap all day and look like a super model, but do I have to eat carrots and celery and drink nothing but water and exercise 2 hours a day to not have a muffin front? (I guess it's a good thing, I don't really have love handles...but I'm sure they could be arranged!) I don't usually eat like I did today, sometimes it's worse, usually it's better, but I just want to be normal! I don't want to obsess about food and my body and what I'm going to wear.
I didn't go to our stake humanitarian project last night for a myriad of reasons, but at the top of the list was this: It was cold...even for California. The pants I was wearing were capris, which means you can really only wear sandals or slip ons without socks... no way! Besides, Kelly called them "Billy Ocean Pants" last night, as in 'painted on jeans,' so obviously I'm rethinking my decision to have worn them out of the house already. I had zero desire to go stand in my closet, stare blankly into space and hope (yet again) that something will magically appear for me to wear. I know what's in there...I see it every day, and it sees me every day...we kind of have a stand off going on. Am I going to lose weight or are they going to D.I.?
I am not trying to complain, there are a lot of problems people have out there and on the scale (ha ha) of things, this isn't a crisis- I am blessed beyond compare. But s.e.r.i.o.u.s.l.y, seriously! We are taught that our bodies shouldn't be our focus, and I agree, but while mine is clearly not my focus, I sure spend a lot of time thinking about it. I believe it's what's inside that counts the most...but when what's on the inside starts showing up on the outside.... whoa!
I'm kind of an all or nothing type of girl...I am either a clean freak, or my house is in shambles for a week or two. I either read my scriptures daily or I don't know where they are. I either hit the gym 5 to 6 days a week and throw away every bit of unhealthy food, or...NOT. I am trying to work on 'moderation in all things', an inspired idea...but it's hard when you're programmed to be 'all or nothing.' Thus, my on-going debate: I really love food and I love to eat. It makes me happy...not in a creepy, childhood trauma, "food is the only thing that loved me" kind of way, just in a "dang, that pasta is off the chain!" - kind of way. Take my Ramen noodles...reminds me of my Grammy. I ate them religiously at her house (and Vienna sausage). She would bring them to me when I stayed home from school, "sick." One time she brought me some and I fixed them after she left. Sadly, they were from her food storage and were full of weevil. To this day it remains one of the most disappointing moments in my life (told you I led a blessed life). I almost tried to eat it, but I couldn't do it. I know they're not good for me...but they're good! Chocolate cake is good, cheesecake, steak, sour cream, butter and ice cream, it's all good, and I'm never, never going to not eat some of it. I guess I just don't need to eat ALL of it.
Friday, May 18, 2012
Home Security
It was hot. Dang hot. So hot you could hardly breathe. I threw the covers off and looked at the clock...4 a.m. I got up and walked over to the sliding glass door of my bedroom and reached through the blinds to unlock it. As the 'louder than expected' click echoed through the room, the blinds simultaneously clanked into one another and I realized my mistake. It was like slow motion as my head turned toward the bed to see Kelly, flinging bed sheets and pillows and going from a prone position to a standing posistion all in one move. His fists were clenched and he was furious. He looked like a giant, white hulk, ready for battle as he roared, "WHO-ARE-YOU-AND-WHAT-ARE-YOU-DOING-HERE?!"
"STOP! STOP! IT'S ME, IT'S ME!" I screamed, as I threw one arm up defensively and pressed my body to the glass. It may seem hard to believe, but my sudden crouching position was both defensive and offensive. I was prepared to pounce if he came any closer... and I had a target in mind.
He stood there for a moment, his eyes adjusting to the darkness, the only sound was our mutual heavy breathing and the blinds bouncing off eachother.
"What are you doing? Why were you outside?" He demanded.
"Holy crap! I was just opening the door, it's hot in here!" I demanded right back.
Silence. Blinds.
"I'm sorry...I was just protecting us..." he said, and tentatively reached out to touch my arm.
"It's fine...I'm going back to bed..." and I did.
But then I had to get back up because now I had a scratchy sore spot in my throat from screaming and I needed a drink and a cough drop...and to go explain to Savannah what Daddy and I were talking about. But I feel safe knowing he's there...mostly! Love you honey <3
"STOP! STOP! IT'S ME, IT'S ME!" I screamed, as I threw one arm up defensively and pressed my body to the glass. It may seem hard to believe, but my sudden crouching position was both defensive and offensive. I was prepared to pounce if he came any closer... and I had a target in mind.
He stood there for a moment, his eyes adjusting to the darkness, the only sound was our mutual heavy breathing and the blinds bouncing off eachother.
"What are you doing? Why were you outside?" He demanded.
"Holy crap! I was just opening the door, it's hot in here!" I demanded right back.
Silence. Blinds.
"I'm sorry...I was just protecting us..." he said, and tentatively reached out to touch my arm.
"It's fine...I'm going back to bed..." and I did.
But then I had to get back up because now I had a scratchy sore spot in my throat from screaming and I needed a drink and a cough drop...and to go explain to Savannah what Daddy and I were talking about. But I feel safe knowing he's there...mostly! Love you honey <3
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
The father of our country...German style
In order to keep things real around here, I have to share the real things that happen around here...even if it is during family scriptures study. There we were, seated on the couches in our living room, scriptures in hand and it begins. Someone (probably a boy) bumps someone and that someone proceeds to call the bumper a "dirty German." The whole name-calling thing has been on my priority list of things to rid our family of. The boys recent fascination with WW2 movies has not made it any easier.
I scold, correct, try to get back on track. Quincy says, "don't call me a dirty German, I'm a dutch man." Only he says 'dootch' which brings about a round of cackles from the peanut gallery (Isaiah) who says, "you're a douche?!" Now I'm fully engaged, scolding and correcting King Peanut, and explaining to Quincy that the word is deutsche (you can bet I had to look that up!) and it's pronounced 'doy-ch.' Well, now all the little ears have perked up and the giggling has intensified. Brayden wants to know if 'douche' is a bad word and I explain that "no, it's not a bad word, it's just a word that means wash, but it's not a word he should be saying. Quincy then proceeds to tell us that his body wash says 'gel douche' on the bottle and I say, "I know! It just means wash!" Brayden thinks for a minute and then says, "so in German it would be George Douche-ington!"
We laughed uncontrollably for ten minutes. Finally I had to get control of the group and I knew I had to make sure this didn't leave the house. I settled them down and said, "Listen, we do not talk about this to anyone, it would be inappropriate! This is not a word we use." Without skipping a beat, Quincy chimes in..."unless we're in the feminine hygiene aisle!"
I scold, correct, try to get back on track. Quincy says, "don't call me a dirty German, I'm a dutch man." Only he says 'dootch' which brings about a round of cackles from the peanut gallery (Isaiah) who says, "you're a douche?!" Now I'm fully engaged, scolding and correcting King Peanut, and explaining to Quincy that the word is deutsche (you can bet I had to look that up!) and it's pronounced 'doy-ch.' Well, now all the little ears have perked up and the giggling has intensified. Brayden wants to know if 'douche' is a bad word and I explain that "no, it's not a bad word, it's just a word that means wash, but it's not a word he should be saying. Quincy then proceeds to tell us that his body wash says 'gel douche' on the bottle and I say, "I know! It just means wash!" Brayden thinks for a minute and then says, "so in German it would be George Douche-ington!"
We laughed uncontrollably for ten minutes. Finally I had to get control of the group and I knew I had to make sure this didn't leave the house. I settled them down and said, "Listen, we do not talk about this to anyone, it would be inappropriate! This is not a word we use." Without skipping a beat, Quincy chimes in..."unless we're in the feminine hygiene aisle!"
Thursday, March 10, 2011
iT'S aLL iN hOW yOU loOK aT it
What's Crappy?
Finishing your two hour massage plus facial and having to go through the seven voice mails waiting for you the minute you're done...Discovering that one of those seven messages is from Wickman Elementary calling to let you know the 5 year old is sick and needs to be picked up...Realizing you're 35 minutes away from the school and that kindergarten ended 2 hours ago anyway...Hurrying home after running your "errands" and blowing a tire in the fast lane on the freeway...Picking up 'not-really-so-sick-cartwheel doing-McDonald's eating-computer playing-5 year old from Kelly's office and realizing your spare tire is now going flat...Sitting in Firestone with said 5 year old for an hour and a half... and THEN being told they don't have your tire and will have to get it tomorrow...Having one son chip a tooth eating Skittles and another nearly rip off a fingernail while skateboarding (can you call it skateboarding if you're sitting on your bum?)...all by Wednesday afternoon!!!
What's NOT Crappy?
That you got a 2 hour massage plus facial to relax you before you headed off to war...That you had had a 90 minute hot stone massage the 2 days previous to further your relaxation...That your husband was available to pick up the sick child from school when calls to your cell phone and house phone went unanswered...That some of your "errands" included having lunch by yourself NOT in the car...That said husband was un-ticked off that you were off having a "spa day" while he was playing nurse maid-taxi service-lunch getter-entertainer-soda opener and cleaner upper-popcorn maker-pencil finder-computer game starter while at "work"...hearing the 'pop' of the tire and slowing down immediately and getting to the shoulder of the road before the tire was in shreds...The AAA guy that changed my tire, then followed me to the nearest gas station to put air in spare...The guys at Costco who put more air in my spare tire...The fact that there was a Rite Aid with ice cream next to Firestone...That Quincy convinced Isaiah that they did NOT need to call 911 about Brayden's fingernail...That the older boys took Brayden to the nurse next door and and she cleaned and dressed and bandaged the finger and told us to just let it fall of on it's own...That Kelly stopped on the way home from a long and less than fruitful day of work and picked up more bandages, pain reliever and cream...That I got to go to the Relief Society birthday party and have dinner with my girlfriends...That I went straight from there and enjoyed yet another 90 minute hot stone massage with my friend...Aaaahhh, good (totally not crappy) day!
*For those of you wondering, I have used a total of 12 (12!!!) massage hours in four days! My membership was expiring and you don't get the money back if you don't use them and you can't transfer them to anyone else. My body was not made for marathons...unless it's a massage marathon...that I can do!
Finishing your two hour massage plus facial and having to go through the seven voice mails waiting for you the minute you're done...Discovering that one of those seven messages is from Wickman Elementary calling to let you know the 5 year old is sick and needs to be picked up...Realizing you're 35 minutes away from the school and that kindergarten ended 2 hours ago anyway...Hurrying home after running your "errands" and blowing a tire in the fast lane on the freeway...Picking up 'not-really-so-sick-cartwheel doing-McDonald's eating-computer playing-5 year old from Kelly's office and realizing your spare tire is now going flat...Sitting in Firestone with said 5 year old for an hour and a half... and THEN being told they don't have your tire and will have to get it tomorrow...Having one son chip a tooth eating Skittles and another nearly rip off a fingernail while skateboarding (can you call it skateboarding if you're sitting on your bum?)...all by Wednesday afternoon!!!
What's NOT Crappy?
That you got a 2 hour massage plus facial to relax you before you headed off to war...That you had had a 90 minute hot stone massage the 2 days previous to further your relaxation...That your husband was available to pick up the sick child from school when calls to your cell phone and house phone went unanswered...That some of your "errands" included having lunch by yourself NOT in the car...That said husband was un-ticked off that you were off having a "spa day" while he was playing nurse maid-taxi service-lunch getter-entertainer-soda opener and cleaner upper-popcorn maker-pencil finder-computer game starter while at "work"...hearing the 'pop' of the tire and slowing down immediately and getting to the shoulder of the road before the tire was in shreds...The AAA guy that changed my tire, then followed me to the nearest gas station to put air in spare...The guys at Costco who put more air in my spare tire...The fact that there was a Rite Aid with ice cream next to Firestone...That Quincy convinced Isaiah that they did NOT need to call 911 about Brayden's fingernail...That the older boys took Brayden to the nurse next door and and she cleaned and dressed and bandaged the finger and told us to just let it fall of on it's own...That Kelly stopped on the way home from a long and less than fruitful day of work and picked up more bandages, pain reliever and cream...That I got to go to the Relief Society birthday party and have dinner with my girlfriends...That I went straight from there and enjoyed yet another 90 minute hot stone massage with my friend...Aaaahhh, good (totally not crappy) day!
*For those of you wondering, I have used a total of 12 (12!!!) massage hours in four days! My membership was expiring and you don't get the money back if you don't use them and you can't transfer them to anyone else. My body was not made for marathons...unless it's a massage marathon...that I can do!
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Bubble Bath
Yesterday I was feeling a bit under the weather (more on that later, I don't want every blog entry to be about poop and/or vomit), so I decided to take a bath. Savannah had stayed home from school, also sick, and came in to ask if she could take a bath with me. I declined the offer and suggested she finish watching her show. She then asked, "when my show is over can I come sit on the side of your tub and put my feet in and talk to you?" I smiled and said yes, remembering doing the same thing with my mom.
She came in after a few minutes and climbed up onto the side of the tub and plopped her freezing cold feet into my bath. "So," she said, folding her hands together, "which do you like more... being a baby or a mom or a kid?" I guess we were going to really talk. I told her I didn't remember being a baby, that being a kid was super fun, but that being the mom was the best because you can still have fun and you get to have your cute kids. She thought for a while and then said, "so, what were Nana's mom and dad's names?" I told her about Grandpa Butler and Grandma Grace and how many grandpas I had and how many she had and all kinds of questions that I didn't expect a four year old to ask me. Holy cow, she's five, not four! She's just so adorable sometimes!
She's home from school again today with an intestinal bacterial infection...whew! Four of us had the flu over the weekend: me, Brayden, Savannah and Quincy. Some of us (me) just ached like crazy, and two of us (the boys) threw up and Savannah just kept running for the bathroom. However, hers didn't go away so I finally took her to the doctor yesterday and she doesn't have the flu. She's on meds and can hopefully (please, oh please) go back to school tomorrow.
I am having my carpets cleaned in the morning for several reasons: they're dirty, we have company coming this weekend and, most importantly, because I thought Brayden was faking it when he said he didn't feel well Sunday morning. I was going to let him stay home from church anyway, I wasn't really up to fighting him, but I didn't take any preventative measures either. I was still in bed when I heard him yell from the landing, "Guys, I have vomit! I vomited!" My hero Isaiah cleaned it up, although I did weakly offer to do it. Then I had a talk with Brayden about now that he's 8 (in a few days), it's time to start hitting a sink, a trash can, a toilet, something other than the carpet! Dude!
They are all growing up. Quincy just turned 12 and will receive the Priesthood on Sunday. He's a good boy, a really good boy and stands up for the little guy all the time. He's been waiting to be ordained until this weekend when Brayden gets baptized so I just found out he hasn't been going to Young Men on Sundays. He thought he had to be ordained first. See...just a good boy! It'll be a long, busy crazy weekend...but an important one for our two youngest boys and we're very proud of them.
She came in after a few minutes and climbed up onto the side of the tub and plopped her freezing cold feet into my bath. "So," she said, folding her hands together, "which do you like more... being a baby or a mom or a kid?" I guess we were going to really talk. I told her I didn't remember being a baby, that being a kid was super fun, but that being the mom was the best because you can still have fun and you get to have your cute kids. She thought for a while and then said, "so, what were Nana's mom and dad's names?" I told her about Grandpa Butler and Grandma Grace and how many grandpas I had and how many she had and all kinds of questions that I didn't expect a four year old to ask me. Holy cow, she's five, not four! She's just so adorable sometimes!
She's home from school again today with an intestinal bacterial infection...whew! Four of us had the flu over the weekend: me, Brayden, Savannah and Quincy. Some of us (me) just ached like crazy, and two of us (the boys) threw up and Savannah just kept running for the bathroom. However, hers didn't go away so I finally took her to the doctor yesterday and she doesn't have the flu. She's on meds and can hopefully (please, oh please) go back to school tomorrow.
I am having my carpets cleaned in the morning for several reasons: they're dirty, we have company coming this weekend and, most importantly, because I thought Brayden was faking it when he said he didn't feel well Sunday morning. I was going to let him stay home from church anyway, I wasn't really up to fighting him, but I didn't take any preventative measures either. I was still in bed when I heard him yell from the landing, "Guys, I have vomit! I vomited!" My hero Isaiah cleaned it up, although I did weakly offer to do it. Then I had a talk with Brayden about now that he's 8 (in a few days), it's time to start hitting a sink, a trash can, a toilet, something other than the carpet! Dude!
They are all growing up. Quincy just turned 12 and will receive the Priesthood on Sunday. He's a good boy, a really good boy and stands up for the little guy all the time. He's been waiting to be ordained until this weekend when Brayden gets baptized so I just found out he hasn't been going to Young Men on Sundays. He thought he had to be ordained first. See...just a good boy! It'll be a long, busy crazy weekend...but an important one for our two youngest boys and we're very proud of them.
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