Pants on Fire

Need a good laugh. Check this girl out.

Corn Bellies

This year, Thanksgiving Point had a corn maze the shape of David Archuletta. How could we not go? Ryan took the day off work and we packed the cubs for a day of festive fun.


Outside the maze was a fun little festival with TONS of great Halloween activities for the cubs.

There was this giant trampoline dome. The cub was in heaven.



He fell down a lot, but that's how he rolls.

The Koala loved jumping too!


The cow ride.

The "lawsuit waiting to happen" slide. It was fast.

Faster than we had anticipated.

Besides sore bums, we all survived.

The Koala.

Farmer Doug.
Farmer Dad.

Mammories

Since it’s been a while since I’ve written a really inappropriate post, or any post, and since for the first time in a month BOTH of my kids are taking a nap at the exact same time, I thought I’d write a little about my boobs—mainly that they’re FREE!!!!

It all came about suddenly, really. I was sitting there, nursing Kiana and out of nowhere I thought “Wow, I really don’t like this anymore. In fact, I don’t like it at all. I want to be done nursing this very instant.”

And so it was.

I pulled the Koala from my chest and went to the grocery store to buy some formula. And I haven’t looked back.

I enjoyed some aspects of nursing and feel proud of myself for hanging in there for nine months. The things I will NOT miss:

-The second I start lactating, my boobs are no longer breasts, but freakish misshapen MAMMORIES. They are gigantic factories of nutrition. Nothing sexy about that.


The following picture was taken one month after birthing Doug. I think it illustates my point nicely and also reminds me of the song "Do Your Ears Hang Low".
-The nursing lounge at church. I am sure it is clean in there, but is it really clean in there? How can I be sure? Also, there are always those awkward moments of being alone with a fellow breast-feeder that I don’t know well. I feel obligated to chat with them and tell them how cute their baby is, even though I can’t really see their baby because it is attached to their boob. So the situation forces me to lie. And lying is especially bad if done at church. And especially especially bad if the lie takes place while I am supposed to be paying attention to sacrament meeting over the speakers, but can’t because I am too busy lying about how cute the baby is, the one I can’t see.

-Nursing bras SUCK! After purchasing ten different bras, not ONE of them fit properly. So I’ve had a bra-wedgie for nine months.

-Then there is the leakage at inopportune moments. Lots of stories there. Too many to share.


Nursing wasn’t all bad though. There are some things I was very fond of:

-The nursing lounge at church. Nursing is a get-out-of-jail free card (JK… sort of). Last Mother’s Day, during the THIRD talk about the Priesthood (on MOTHER’S DAY), I slipped into the nursing lounge to gossip…er nurse… with the other ladies in the ward about how “not motherish” sacrament meeting was going. Many other fun moments were spent not paying attention to Sacrament meeting in that room. But that is bad.

-Nursing is the best diet ever.

-There were hundreds of tender moments shared with my little cubs while nourishing their little bodies. I felt magic watching them grow and knowing that it all stemmed from the food my body created so effortlessly. I got cuddles for free too, and who doesn’t like a free cuddle?


I celebrated my nine months of nursing success by tossing out my old nursing bras and buying some incredibly cute and incredibly comfy regular bras from GAP Body. I’m free. Now my boobs are mine, all mine!

Almost.

Thanks for Making my Birthday so Great!

At the Zoo

Giraffe mommies put their toddlers in time out too.

As I Eat a Slice of Apple Pie...

Ryan is in a small town far far away. I am here, me and the cubs. And I miss him terribly.

I miss him because he has kissed me awake every morning of every day since we have been married and has never missed a day ever except when he is out of town on business, like now.

I miss him because he laughs at the jokes I make even when I didn’t realize I had made a joke until I hear him laughing.

I miss him because as good as a mom as I am, I am not a very good dad and no one is as fun as the Papa Bear.

I miss him because he bakes me apple pies all by himself.

I miss him because he is so smart and he takes such good care of us.

And I hope he reads this as he is in a small town far far away and knows that I am his woman.

Four in the Bed

My days as of late have gone a little like the kid song “Roll Over.” Remember that song:

There were four in the bed and the little one said roll over, roll over. So they all rolled over and one fell out. He gave a little scream and he gave a little shout.

The “little one” represents the changes in my life since I moved from Grapevine. First change—the glorious hour of exercise a day. Then there is the social life, which has tripled with so many friends and family members so close (An enthusiastic loner by nature, I spend as much time overwhelmed by my social interactions as I do enjoying them. It is important to add, however, that these people are the reason Ryan and I move back here in the first place and are well worth it.). Last, the cubs. Their nap requirements are dwindling… as is my sanity.

So naturally, things are falling out of bed. First to hit the floor, obviously, is my writing. How I love words, manipulating them to do what I want, swinging them around to evoke emotions, pairing them in ways that make others laugh, agree, and sometimes blush. I miss writing so.

Also, it seems that I’ve lost any time for reading. Books, blogs, and yes my friends, even my scriptures have been neglected. I’ve haven’t even signed up for my new library card yet, whereas before I’d visit the library weekly, always leaving with five or more pounds of loot.

These are very important pieces of me that have been pushed to the side by other very important pieces of me.

Rather that pick and choose, I’ve decided to add an extra hour to the day. Being that the sun was not very keen on the idea of slowing her routine, however, I’ll just have to do it myself… gosh dang it. I’ll add another hour by waking up early every day, before the kids, before my hubby and before that cheeky sun.


Ryan laughed when I told him my plan because he has no recollection of me EVER getting out of bed before him. I am not what you’d call a “morning person.” I've never wanted to “get the worm.” But do I really need nine hours of sleep a day?

I can do it. Holy hummus, I can do it.