I-da-ho

So, to keep track of our super duper family vacation, I’m going to try and blog as much as possible so ONE day I will print it all out and we’ll have a record of all the screaming and fighting and whining . . . er, I mean a record of all the wonderful memories we had on this family va-cay.

Tyler worked a full day on Thursday and my goal was to get out the door by 5:15pm that night to drive up to Pleasant Grove. A mere three hours past my target time we were finally rolling down I-15. Of all the things I DID get done on Thursday before we left (family pictures and a doctor’s visit) I DID also manage to clear all the old Oprah’s off my DVR and I forgot to print off Tyler’s confirmation for his flight home. I know, I know despite the DVR travesty we were able to travel pretty well through the night. Tyler was an excellent driver and as much as I insisted I didn’t really sleep on the car ride, somehow I’d dose off at 10:15pm and the next time I’d look at the clock it’d be 11:23pm. As far as trips go, I thought it went pretty quickly and by 3:29am (MST) we were all bedded and sleeping at Tyler’s fabulous Aunt Karen’s house.

LUCKY for us our kids were such great sleepers in the car on the way up that they were great early-risers (well, considering our mid-middle-o-the-night bedtime). Once Aunt Karen was done teaching yoga we had a yummy breakfast with her and her kids and we all visited for a bit. Of course, Caylee made a friend at Aunt Karen’s house and was ready to stay for the two weeks to play with her and all my other kids ran after the poor cats in the neighborhood until we left around 11am. We drove on up north until North Ogden when we called, totally spur of the moment, and bamboozled Tyler’s Aunt and Uncle Dunkley to join us for lunch. Since Tyler has a “no restaurant chain” policy on our road trips we ate at Maddox in Williard, UT and then pushed on to Idaho. {Thanks again for lunch Ralph and Diana! It was fun to see you.}

And gosh, ID is gorgeous. I was driving looking at the mountains and hills and GREEN and wondered why don’t I live in such a pretty place? Then I imagined what it all looked like cold and frozen and snowy . . . probably not so cute. BUT, I really enjoyed myself on the drive. I even snapped some pictures (at which point I got a lecture from Caylee on safe driving) until we stopped in Blackfoot, ID to join up with my sister and her family at the Idaho Potato Museum. Ahhh, yeah, ma people, you’ll want to put it on your itinerary . . . only if it’s “free day,” which it was (I know, how lucky are we?) Uncle Kevin explained to all of us that spontaneous stops are what family vacations are all about. And now we know all about mashers, what makes a perfect potato, and have seen a dress made from burlap for a rodeo queen. Nice!

This is so you can tell how excited Tyler is about the museum!

We drove on to Rexburg and it was a treat as we stopped to eat dinner and let the kids run off some of their pent-up car-ness. Erin had made these super cool Bingo games for the ride up and all I listened to from Idaho Falls to Rexburg was Brock whining that he just wanted a treat without a Bingo, so, in all truthfulness, maybe I was the one that needed some fresh air and space. We enjoyed the park and dinner before stocking up for the weekend with groceries and goodies.

Then it was off to Island Park. There’s not many more beautiful drives I’ve taken than this drive, especially since this year we made it right at sunset. And Marsha’s cabin is spectacular. We truly invaded her and she’s shown us nothing but the best hospitality. Oh, and patience. When, for the umpteenth time this morning Caylee whined that she was bored, it was Marsha that busted out bubble wands . . . then toys . . . then an art set to appease her. We all sat around and visited all afternoon about nothing while the kids played outside and then watched movies. Tyler, of course, spent the day on the river LOVING the fly-fishing and then picked up the little boys to take them fishing for a bit. We had a yummy pizza dinner and then took the kids on a walk where Brock held his first earthworm and antagonized the girls with it. Oh, and he pee’ed on the side of the road while the mosquitoes feasted on his hind-end. And tonight we are finishing up with a good late-night chat.

(in the attic hideout where the girls slept)

(how cute is Marsha? This was our welcome sign!)

(on my afternoon walk in the rain)

(success!)

(family walk. The girls freaked out over all the mosquitos and Tyler's head got eaten up since he refused the bug spray.)

(Can you tell Tyler and I are impressed with Brock's stream?)

I cannot say enough about Marsha's hospitality and goodness this weekend. It has reminded me a lot of the hours and hours Erin and I would spend at her house when we were little playing with Megan. I so wish Marsha's kids and hubby could have come this weekend, although I totally understand we're not the biggest draw (too many screamin' kids!) I just really appreciate all Marsha's love and support for me (and our family) for as long as I've known her. We're just lucky to know her.

Not so Well Check

I thought I'd chronicle my most recent shining moment of motherhood. As a parent of five small ones our "well-checks" are part of our routine and if I'm lucky I can schedule several checks at once. On Briggs official first birthday, at the end of April, I took him to see our favorite pediatrician for his once over and some shots. Briggs had been fussy and onry for a couple days before his check-up, but once we got there he was all smiles and roses.

We got all his weights and measures (average for his length, below average for weight, and big head) and his anxiety immediately increased once he knew I was going to be letting other people get close to him. He's in that strangers-freak-me-out-I-only-want-my-mom-stage.

Well, long story short, Briggs was not-s0-well at year 1. In fact he had an ear infection and a nasty upper respiratory. And that called for no shots, an antibiotic, a breathing treatment, and a FABULOUS breathing machine for the Barlow household.

That's right, after a decade of kids we're the proud owners of a nebulizer. Sweet. Briggs was pretty thrilled, too. Can't you tell.

Here's Briggs being scarred in the name of the scrapbook.

And since I am sure y'all want the update, THAT ear infection cleared and he's had two more since. That's right. The past 5 weeks he's had 3 infections. We'll be going to see an ENT for tubes when we get back fro va-cay in a couple weeks.

*But really! How cute is he in all these bawling pics?!*

Birthday Celebrations

I have been so bad about updating my blog . . . I know, right!? When I looked through at what blogs I could print out to send to my brother I realized I hadn't really blogged too much in the entire month of May. Well, most of it anyway. I'm so impressed with those who can post daily, or even daily-ish. Tyler even just said, "Do you even blog anymore?" Facebook is just so much more instant and I feel like I can still get my voyeuristic thrills on all y'all.

BUT since this is also our little family record that I print and binder for all posterity I thought I'd note that 3/5 of my kids had birthdays some time within the past 6 weeks. First, Briggs turned one. I did write about how he had grown over the year, but here's some pictures of his party we had a week or so after his actual birthday (sorry, Briggs, but when you're the 5th kid, your brother's t-ball game trumps a birthday party with the family on your actual big day. I'm so glad you survived the trauma, though!) I was surprised when we had all the family over from both sides that there were SO MANY PEOPLE! Poor Tyler was stuck on the grill for quite a bit while we all enjoyed his skillz. The cousins ran around like madmen/women and then we finished off an entire sheet cake from Sam's . . . and those things are huge (okay, it was a half sheet, but still, it was big.) It took Briggs a while to really dig into his cake, but then he messed himself up pretty well. I'd have to say his favorite gift was the dum dum suckers from the Mohlers . . . pretty much made his night.

Then Caylee turned 7. And wouldn't you know it, all her tantrums and fits magically quit. Oh, wait, that was my wish when she blew out her candles .. . since it wasn't my birthday it must not have come true. Dang. My girls were all set with their birthday plans as soon as April hit since the rule is no party-planning/discussing until the month previous to the actual birthday. (Seriously, am I the only mom who goes crazy with the ba-dillion plans that are made and remade and remade throughout the year?) The girls BOTH wanted a Hawaiian luau swim party and they BOTH wanted it right by their birthdays so they got a joint birthday party. It took some persuading for Mackenzie to get on board (I mean, I really ruined her cool by making her have her party with her kid sister), but by party time they were both excited. They had lots of friends and thanks to the YW fundraiser for our ward they scored pizza to eat. We had a pinata and they even both invited boys (who weren't cousins) to their party . . . is that a milestone? I dunno. At one point there were 27 kids in the pool. Yikes, right?! Everyone was still alive when their parents got there so the party was a complete success . . .oh and the girls LOVED their goodies from their friends, so they were thought it was a smash too.

Since the girls' party was after their actual birthdays, Mom and Dad gave our gifts on their actual birthday. Caylee got a much needed bike and much asked-for underwear (no, I didn't get that backwards. The silly girl REALLY wanted new panties.) Kenzie got an ipod charger and bras. (yes, that will completely embarrass her that I "recorded" that for posterity . . . and for the internet.)

I probably don't say enough how grateful I am for my kids. It IS a little tricky to fit that in in between all my complaining, griping, and eye-rolling that my motherhood job does. BUT I love my kids. They are, simply, wonderful and I DO like them. (I really am not convincing myself; I really do organically feel that!) Mackenzie and I have some great laughs and I can't believe what a little woman she is becoming. Part of her birthday gift is a scrapbook of the past 10 years with her and it's been pretty great for me to reminisce about how she's impacted my life. And Caylee is really all heart. She's my most dedicated fan and my biggest challenge, but I'm thankful for her example and love EVERY day. Her personality has been entertaining and I look forward to watching her continue to come into her own. And Briggs, well, he's ma heart! I can't squeeze him enough. The past year has gone so fast and I'm sure this one will too. Before I know it they'll be 11, 8, and 2 . . . Wild!

Welcome Summer Vacation

Popsicles, Swimming, Lounging Around

Bring it on Summertime!

{Post script. How is this not self-explanatory? This is my son, post-swimming, enjoying a popsicle in his carseat. Who wants to ride home in a wet suit? Not him . . . it would ruin the joy of the summer fun.}

How do you describe a really good cake?

I can't remember when it all started. Perhaps it was when I was 6 and learned the "oi" sound. Perhaps it was when I reached the pubescent age . . . and so did my friends and classmates and there were odiferous emissions from certain teenage body parts. Maybe it was when I had time to think about things that really bug me. I s'pose when doesn't really matter, but somewhere along the line I discovered I really hate the world "MOIST."

Ew. Just writing it makes me cringe. Really. I kinda vomit a little in my mouth any time I hear someone say it. And let me explain why.

Words have meaning. The word moist means: damp, humid, soggy, wet, clammy, tacky. Fine. There is a couple of situations were "moist" is appropriate and it doesn't really offend me. For example: the weather. Sometimes there is moisture in the air and it is fine to note so (like the time one of our friends said during the church opening prayer for my benefit, "We thank the for the moist . . . for the moisture." And yes, I shuddered when he said moist, but conceded that his use of moisture was appropriate considering the summer monsoons we had been having that year.) Another time when "moist" is fitting: when talking about dark, dank places . . . and that could mean bodily places OR creepy, icky basements. I mean, really, people. We all know crotches, armpits, and basement corners are "moist." Gross, right!? Nothing good comes with the word moist. Moist underwear = bad. Moist carpet = vomit. Moist shower = mold. Moist armpits = humidity. Moist air = rain (okay, I already said this one isn't as offensive, but still.) It's not a word we should say.

BUT WE DO!!! If we can all agree on the meaning of "moist," then why do people insist on calling food "moist"? There are plenty of words to describe a really delicious cake. There ya go, I just gave you a replacement word, "delicious." or "decadent." or "delightful." (It doesn't have to start with a "d" either.) If a cake is good, we all know it's good tasting AND the texture is great. We don't have to differentiate. When's the last time you had a cake that was good enough to make you comment, "This cake is SOO good; I think this cake is perfect; I am normally not a cake person, but I would eat this whole thing; BUT THE CAKE IS FALLING APART DRY." !!!!???? You don't say that EV-VER!! Let the "This cake is SOO good; I think this cake is perfect; I am normally not a cake person, but I could eat this whole thing" stand alone. Why must people then say, "AND THE CAKE IS SO MOIST!" ???????? That is like an oxymoron. A cake is not moist. Because a soggy, damp, tacky cake would be NASTY. As nasty as the word MOIST.

Anyway, this aversion to the "M" word is a common known issue with me. So much so that my friends Leslie and Melissa thought it would be worth their money to purchase this beauty from their local Walgreens:

And yes, Melissa tied a ribbon around it a la Relief Society. That's how you know you have good friends. They buy you stuff that they know will make you gag and then literally present it at family history club. I love 'em.

{And PLEASE do not let me go on about the disgusting nature of this dog treat. Puke Me People!} I know I'm not alone in this. I can't be. In fact, when pressed on this issue, I have never had someone tell me a way to use the word "moist" that explains something good . . . logically. Like I said, CAKE should NOT be described as MOIST because of what MOIST really means. (Anyone work for Duncan Hines . . . I think they have a moist brand of cake mixes.) Can anyone tell me of anything good that is moist? Anyone? Crickets? Thank you! Let's stop this nonsense. Nast. Nasty. {{Shiver}}

Won't you be my neighbor?

There is a private drive located off of Pecos, I believe (here in Vegas) and I remember driving by it in my brother-in-law's red mini van (when we were younger; before he was my BIL). There were maybe 6 or 7 houses on this gated street and we'd all talk about how cool it would be to grow up and live on that street with your best friends living right next door. (Of course Kevin always called dibs on the big house at the end of the street.)



Seriously! Do you ever pretend you could design your own street/neighborhood/ward of people you REALLY like and want to be closer to? Sometimes I think it'd be WONDERFUL to have a neighborhood where my kids could run free and have an assundry of friends to pick from who live RIGHT NEXT DOOR. A neighborhood kinda like Leave it To Beaver where the kids could play baseball in the street and the neighbors would think it was cute and fun to have the kids in the front; not bugged that they were playing outside. I know not everyone's perfect, but in my neighborhood we'd love everyone complete with their flaws and it's ALL GOOD. Trust me, I'm imagining quite the dynamic neighborhood of goodness. Probably a little reminiscent of the old Burley neighborhood I grew up in, but with my peeps (however the Nelson clan is good peeps, so they'd probably be invited to my 'hood.) I dunno, a neighborhood where my kids would have some options when they want to "run away" or when I angrily kick them out the front door for being so stinkin' onry. It'd be great to know they'll end up at Barb's or Nancee's or Chris' or my sister's house and not picked up by some random stranger who'd report me to social services.



I would love this situation so then, when my friends have babies, they would come to their homes right around the corner from my house and I could run over to their house and hold their baby while they shower OR call and say, "send your other kid(s) over here for the day while you nap and sniff your new baby." And then, in my dream neighborhood, I could help my friends more and share with them more and learn about them and their spouses more and appreciate them more and . . . basically soak in their goodnesses. When they'd have good news we'd ALL celebrate with goodies, but then we could all work out together the next morning since my neighborhood would have miles of wonderful walking paths where we could burn of calories whilst we counsel each other. One of the best parts would be seeing my friends from college become friends with the gals I love in my current ward. OR my old ward friends really getting along with my family. And if, heaven forbid, there'd be a tragedy we could support and help each other. Because I, for one, have a ton of wheat for when the world falls apart and a generator big enough to run our house's power, but I KNOW in my dream neighborhood SOMEONE would share their water with me. (AND B.T.W., thanks Mindy for the water barrel heads up at Wal-Mart . . .you may now be invited to my 'hood!)



Then, as time goes by, our little kids would transition to teenagers and we moms and dads could be a team of cool, loving, stern, but fun adults for all our kids. And the kids could all date each other (or just hang out if they want) and I'd be excited just at the prospect that I could be actually related to some of my friends if our kids actually married [totally after missions and college, etc.]! (OBVIOUSLY I'd want some family to be in my neighborhood, but feel I should make it clear that I would not think the relatives dating would be so cool; that would be incest-y and that's gross. Plus I'm already related to the relatives, so no need to be all excited that we could be more related . . . anyway, you know what I mean. My kids dating my friends kids = cute.) Trust me, I know this neighborhood would be fun. Totally compound-ish, maybe, BUT we'd all love it so much I think we'd even want to vacation together too! Don't get me started on those plans.



Not that I even think the neighborhood would be perfect. I'm sure there'd be sorrow and struggles and problems, BUT I know these people are the best out there and my neighborhood would rally around each other. We'd lift each other up. We could help, not hurt. We'd laugh, oh my gosh! We'd laugh ourselves skinny because my peeps are funny. Like, it'd be funny to hear someone else yell at their kids through their shut windows or as their loading their kids into the car for church. It'd be a community when you could yell, "SERIOUSLY I will beat you bloody if you poke your star wars character into your sister's scriptures again!" and those who heard you would either wave like you hadn't just threatened physical violence OR shout a back up threat just to help you out. I'm telling you people, it'd be fun. Don't you think? C'mon, don't you want to be a neighbor? How could it be much better?

Wonderful Women Wednesday

The other day as I was thinking, I thunked, "I should record something about the various women who've impacted my life." There's lots of men, too, but particularly women who have affected me and changed the course of my life. Mostly I am grateful for them. Generally, I'm pretty sure that my "experiences" with them have barely blipped on their radar. In an effort, though, to record more of my thunking, I think I'll try and use Wednesdays to reflect on some of those women. There will be no particular order to my thoughts (I know, not a big shocker there), so please nobody take offense if I don't get a chance to acknowledge your contribution in my life until the year 2056. (And yes, to Tyler's chagrin, I hope to be blogging when I'm that old.)

Tonight I'd like to thank the blond woman who dropped her kids off at the precise moment I dropped my kids off about two and a half years ago at LVAC's gym. I don't know her name. I only talked to her that one morning and perhaps one other time in a brief passing in the locker room, but somehow I felt we were kindred spirits. I was in a particular funk about my body and my overwhelming ONLY-A-MOM life with four small kids, saggy boobs, and a big butt as my main accomplishments. Since we had been religiously been paying on my gym membership, but had only used my membership about ten times in two years, I thought I'd work up the gumption to try it again. BUT, of course, getting my three kids TO the gym was a huge feat; having it go flawlessly was another story. Brock, at the time a baby, was not so into the random strangers who took him from his mother's flabby arms and he was scream/crying as I walked out of the daycare door to walk to the members' entrance.

I must have sighed or something. Maybe I was crying, or fighting back the tears, at least. I probably had peanut butter wiped across my forehead or a cheerio smashed on my backside. Somehow I projected a neediness to this blond, fit, shorter-than-me (but, really, who isn't) mom. She had a gym bag over her shoulder and I remember the compassion that lathered over me when she asked, "Is this his first time to the daycare here?" Kinda caught off guard I just volunteered our entire gym history (which, remember, it was pretty short). I think I finished with something like, "It's just so hard and I need it to be easy," and she said these life-changing words, "Okay, what you do is the next time you're at Wal-Mart get yourself a lock. Then pack a gym back with everything you'd need to shower and get cleaned up. You can book that daycare for two hours, so spend your first hour working out and then go get showered and cleaned up for the day. At least this way you know they're not opening up everything in your pantry while you're trying to get cleaned up."

For some reason her advice resonated with me and my experiences at the gym became vastly better. Sure, Brock still cried and sometimes I forgot to make the appointment or something annoying like a poopy diaper pulled me away from my workout. BUT more often then not I could go workout and get changed and ready for my day. It wasn't that what she said was profound, but her calm, together attitude really influenced me to see that it was possible to take care of my kids AND to take care of myself.

So, thanks, lady. I don't know who you are and I could be blow drying my hair right next to you and I probably wouldn't even know, but I'm grateful for you speaking to a completely frazzled stranger. And yes, more often then not I will pack my gym back and get it all done before I have to go be ONLY-A-MOM (still with saggy boobs, but with less of a butt . . . thanks to HER!)