Life is Sweet

Monday, February 21, 2011

Dirt

I'm taking a quick break from my holiday chores to dish the dirt on the weekend.

Friday night Bill and I attended a high school basketball game. Possibly the last game we will ever see Lex cheer at, as the season is nearing a close. Lex still insists that she will not be trying out for next year, so it was a tender experience for us all.
Just kidding.

The game was excellent. We were playing our nearest and dearest in-town rivals, at their school.
The crowds - large, security - tight, the game - intense. The perfect storm.

Shilo even wore her special shirt, sold at LHS for this very occasion. Ingenious, I say.

(LT - Legend Titans. My little pony - Pondo Mustangs. In case you were wondering)

(And since I'm talking dirt, I pulled this shirt out of the hamper to take a picture. Thus the wrinkles.)

The thrill of victory tinged only briefly with feeling bad that a nice young man, a senior, from our ward, was a starting player on the opposing team. It was his final home game. Ever. I'm not heartless, my feelings were genuine. But that overwhelming sense of excitement at the win was... well... overwhelming.

Saturday was full to the brim with this, that and the other. I made food for and attended a bridal shower for a young woman who was one of MY young women (I have never liked it when others have referred to YW they served in YW as "my YW," but for lack of a better expression, and a brain taking a President's Day holiday, it's all I've got). The third marriage {already} among those ladies. I still clearly remember a Sunday a few years back in our Laurel class, discussing the topic of marriage. Several of the girls left in tears, worried about finding Mr. Right. Their one-and-only. Ah, the good ol' days.

I had signed us all up to help the Parker Task Force collect donations for the food bank, so thankfully, Bill and the girls managed it without me while I was busy showering. Afterwards, Bill and Mar squeezed in a quick bike-ride to try out her birthday present. From a month-and-a-half ago.

Sunday, Sunday, so good to me.

(I just had one teeny tiny meltdown, that's all.)

And since this is a three-day weekend, I have an extra day. To do chores. Yippee. And since I'm dishing dirt, I'll shamelessly share my project for today:

A virtual I-Spy on my basement table. Can you find:

a picture of Britt, useless dishwasher accessories, a table runner, scripture bag, and lid...

...a food processor, about 4 years old, used maybe three times...

...quilting fabric in disarray (okay, so that's hiding behind the table)...

...lidless labeled containers, spilling over with stuff...

...Christmas file folders, cheer yard sign, Stake Conference bulletin, ribbon with dots...

...and on the floor: remnants from Mar's birthday party, 20 questions game, gift bags, and {another} cheer sign...

My only relief: the beginnings of order.

And my cleaning companion:

Mar's little pony. Lucky me.

So that's the dirt.
I am cluttered, unorganized, and messy. But {hopefully} not for long.

Friday, February 18, 2011

Just Call Me Debbie

Every weeknight, as Bill embarks on his long commute home, he gives me a jingle. Sometimes it's around 6 or so, sometimes it's around 8, but most of the time it's between 6:30 and 7.

Most days he's in the mood to chat.

I usually take these calls on the corded phone in the kitchen, because a cordless is nowhere to be found. Many times I am smack dab in the middle of dinner. Or dishes. I am tired, and ready to decompress for the day after the final wrap-up of the after school chaos, including carpooling, parental supervision of homework and practices of all sorts, dinner prep (with constant invitations for child participation), and clean up.

Bill always asks, "How was your day?"

I almost always respond, "It was fine."

"Just fine?"

"Yep, just fine."

Sometimes I'm the one that does all the talking, mostly about my frustrations and stresses of the day, issues with the kids, or things I need him to take care of... sometime. Soon.

On rare occasions, I put concerted effort into being a more perky and interested conversationalist. Probably not very successfully.

Basically, I'm a Debbie Downer. I know it, and I'm sure he knows it.

But he calls every night anyway. Even when he knows I will let a long, slow sigh escape when he tells me he has another 30 minutes at the office (which often turns into an hour or longer). Even when he knows I'm not good at dropping everything to chat for an hour. Or even more than 10 minutes. Even when he knows he just might get an earful, or a long honey-do list.

I'm pretty sure he loves me. Alot.

I am such a lucky girl.

Thursday, February 17, 2011

Dog Talk

The conversation around our house frequently goes to the dogs. Literally. We talk about dogs at least every day. Mauri still has her heart set on a canine companion, and the other girls contribute to the pressure to succumb to dog ownership.

My favorite excuses:

You need to take better care of Buddy and Tweety.

Dogs cost mucho dinero, and I have two kids in college.

We need a fence. (More dinero.)

The last time we had a dog, everyone said they would take care of him, and I ended up having to do it.

I've decided the attachment to a pet for young children is stronger than I initially thought.

I remember my dogs growing up.

I was so attached to this dog, I named a daughter after him. Not really, but his name was Brit. I think I remember that my parents ended up giving him to the postman, telling us that he would grow to be a big dog, and needed a place to run. Good-bye, cute puppy.

A few years later we got another dog we named Ceasar.

Ceasar had an affinity for chasing cars. He was fascinated by those spinning tires. He would escape from the house and go yipping and barking down the street every time a car went by. Eventually he learned not to bark as he ran along side those spinning tires, and one day, right after a trip to the groomer's, one of those tires ran right over his tiny head. Good-bye, cute puppy.

And, here at the Syddall house, we can never forget Ace.

Mauri still prays for him every once in a while. That he'll be safe. That he'll be happy. She's even asked if we could just get Ace back. No. Good-bye, cute puppy.

So I'm not surprised that she brings home books like this:

The talks will continue. She's breaking us down. She's tried to make us commit to a time frame. I have been non-committal and vague. But tempted.

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

Behind

As Mauri was heading out with her Valentine box yesterday, she came to the awful realization that we had forgotten a tail. So within a 5 minute time period, we scouted out the remaining burlap, found some pipe cleaners (necessary for a "happy" tail), plugged in the glue gun, waited for it to get hot enough to spew glue, and madly glued, then taped (for good measure) a tail onto the beloved doggie-box's behind.

Of course it would be a windy day. As I dropped Mar and her friends off at school, I hoped the doggie-box would NOT lose it's head.

I headed off to the Kindie class. 31 children and 25+ adults in one room: decorating cookies, making door hangers and bookmarks out of fun foam (with stickers and glitter-glue abounding), eating mini muffins and fruit, and passing out Valentines. It was a little overwhelming.

After work, I ran home to put together Valentines for the fam, then headed off to Mar's class party.

Thankfully, it was much calmer than the Kindie party earlier in the day.

And this past weekend, the lights came down.

Only 9 months until they need to go back up.

Monday, February 14, 2011

Evolution of a Box

Disclaimer: I am not a creative person. People may think I am, but really, I'm just good at borrowing ideas.

Ahhh... Valentine's Day. Mauri has been stressing about her box for over a week. She had all kinds of ideas, all of which involved dogs in some way, shape, or form. I kept putting her off. I asked Shilo to help her. Nothing got done. I knew as the weekend approached, we had to git 'er done.

On Friday, the Kindie kids were decorating their boxes. After calming fears that Valentine's Day was not today ("I still need to make my Valentines!!"), I spotted an extra-fancy box on the teacher's desk. The Kindies were supposed to just bring a plain, wrapped box to class, and the embellishing would be done at school. Some crazy parent, out to out-do (can you imagine?), just wasn't going to stand for her Kindie actually

creating/designing/decorating

his own box. Not when she had visions of grandeur.

So while the other kids embellished and bedazzled, this particular boy made a card (probably to thank his mom for her hard work on his Valentine box). The box had it's desired effect. I fell in love with it, and quickly thought of how we (Mar and I, of course) could tweak it to fulfill her doggie-Valentine-box dreams.

Evolution pictures:

Personally, I think it's the cutest Valentine box ever. And we just used stuff we could find at home. The body is an Oatmeal box, the head is a Costco-sized Ziploc box. The ears are from burlap left over from a Christmas-tree-ornament project years ago. The tongue - felt intended for a rag-quilt baby blanket that never happened.

I think Mar is happy with her finished project. I know I am.

Other Valentine's Day prep included:

Bill made chocolate chip cookies for his Home Teaching families all by himself. I'm so impressed.

We created, printed, and cut out Mar's Valentines. I think the glow bracelets will be a hit.

And I made Valentines for the Kindies. Initially I was going to put glow bracelets on them as well, but decided that I didn't want to risk a child thinking it was something to eat, so I hunted high and low for Pixie Stix. They were not easy to find, but King Sooper's did NOT disappoint.

Now for my family... Hmmmm... I'm still thinking. Any ideas?

Friday, February 11, 2011

Love That Girl

Mauri stayed up late last night working on this:

for a children's artwork contest sponsored by Bill's employer. The topic:

If I could go anywhere in the world on vacation, where would I go?

Mauri was excited to learn that there were cash prizes involved, so, even though it was 9:30 at night and due the next day, she was up for the challenge.

Our fingers are crossed.

Thursday, February 10, 2011

Kindergarten in '74

I know, I'm on a nostalgia kick.

Things I remember about Kindergarten:

I thought my teacher (on the right) was beautiful. And young. And she was obviously a snappy dresser. I liked how her name rhymed with murder.

I learned to tie my shoes. I actually learned how to tie a fuzzy pony holder (like the ones the girl is wearing in the center of the picture) in a bow around an empty spice jar. I thought it was the prettiest little bottle ever. Tying eventually transferred over to my shoes, though.

I was punished once for scribbling on what I believed was someone else's {UGLY} picture. It was the only time I had to miss snack time the entire year. Usually there were at least two kids missing snack, but that day, I was the only one. I hid in the tiny little playhouse in the center of the room and pretended to read a book, like I didn't care. But I did. I cared mostly because I had disappointed my beloved teacher, who, up to that day, I thought adored me.

Once we made a big class salad. Yessiree bob, we were some lucky kids. One mom brought a whole bucketload of mushrooms. I remember her washing them, slicing them, then tossing them in the salad. I don't think I had ever tried a raw mushroom prior to that, and was very sad to discover that I hated them. Passionately. No salad for me, please. (You'll be happy to know that I like mushrooms now.)

We took a field trip to the YMCA. To swim. A class of Kindergarteners. I know, what were those administrative people thinking? I remember because it was the first time I saw a grown-up without clothes (the student teacher in the locker room). Naked. Like she thought we were too young to notice. It obviously was disturbing to me (along with the ensuing comments made by a fellow student), since it's one of the few Kindergarten memories bouncing around the synapses (is that what they're called?) in my brain.

I had an extreme fear of dogs. One day, as a neighbor girl and I were walking home from school, a big, black dog showed up out of nowhere. We were at the corner of our street, and decided to try and outrun it. We bolted. The dog followed. Gina disappeared down the street, and the dog chased after me. I tripped. The dog was on top of me (or so I thought -- biting, eating, enjoying me for lunch). The details are sketchy on how I eventually made it home, but I will never forget that when I finally arrived to my front door, it was locked. It was NEVER locked. Major panic set in as I sandwiched myself between the screen door and the door, trying to make myself thin enough to latch the screen door shut. I'm sure within moments (time always seems longer to kids, you know), the door opened and my mom appeared. To this day I still have some apprehension around strange dogs, especially if they are big, and extra-especially if they are black.

Tomorrow it's back to today. Or tomorrow. You know what I mean.

Today, I will continue to fondly recall the days when my biggest worries were canines, edible fungus, swimming pool locker rooms, and ugly artwork. And I can sleep easier knowing that my Kindergarten memories are no longer folklore, they are actual, documented recollections from the source.