Life is Sweet

Monday, April 25, 2011

Easter - SparkNotes Version

In my day, we called them Cliff's Notes, but I'm trying to keep up with the times.

Finally... a post! (I know, it's only been a few days, but I'm patting myself on the back for my display of posting-restraint in the continual quest to prioritize effectively.) I will try to fully utilize my limited time to it's fullest, so don't expect entertainment, organization, or even correct spelling. Those things take time.

Let's start at the very beginning. A very good place to start.

The egg lights were hung almost a full week before Easter. Just don't call me late for dinner.

Tulips (my next-to-favorite flower) were purchased as a reminder of Spring, which has been MIA around these parts lately.

The eggs were boiled, and refrigerated for a more convenient time to dye.

That time came around 9:30 pm on a Friday evening. Lex kindly put her friends on hold for a whole 10 minutes, so she could be included in this highly anticipated family tradition. (Small amounts of coercion and parental persuasion may have been involved. And a pizza bribe.)

Lex dyed her eggs, then headed back to the friends. Such a teenager-ish thing to do.

I personally LOVE this technique for coloring eggs. It's quick and easy, with relatively little mess. Except for on your hands, which is why we now always wear gloves. Smart, huh? Here's the formula in a nutshell, courtesy of Family Fun mag, April 2006:

Tie-dye Easter Eggs

1) Place several hard-boiled eggs in a colander in the kitchen sink and splash them with white vinegar.

2) Drip food coloring on the eggs. (Just a drop or two of your first color. Lighter colors first. Two colors works best, but you can use up to three -- any more may make your colors turn muddy. We use the McCormick neon colors in those little squeeze bottles.)

3) Gently (ever so gently, so as not to crack your eggs) agitate (I call it "swirl") the colander for a few seconds to help the color spread. Let the first color set on the eggs for 30 seconds.

4) Repeat steps 2 and 3, allowing each color to set for 30 seconds.

5) After the last color has set, give the eggs a light rinse (in a very small stream of slow-running water... not a full-blast from the faucet) and let them drain for a minute or two. Air-dry on paper towels.

You can't color eggs without a pair of bunny ears or two. And two willing subjects to wear them.

(Note the Easter goodies on the counter... courtesy of Grandma Syddall, who NEVER forgets that my kids LOVE a package in the mail. Thanks, Grandma!)

To clean up all that food dye, Clorox is your best friend. Just don't splash it on your pants.

On Saturday morning, my friend Steph kindly took Mar to an egg hunt at the park. I really appreciate friends who offer to pick up my slack.

Sunday morning, we attended church. Mar and I headed out early for a final choir practice. I LOVE that she is singing in the choir with me. Britta used to sing with me, and Shilo has on occasion, but there's been a long, dry spell of lonely practices until Mar joined (along with a few of her closest friends).

The talks were thought-provoking and moving. The Relief Society lesson was excellent. It was the perfect way to start a beautiful (although somewhat gray and overcast) Easter morning.

Note: Bill and I snuck out during Sunday School to play bunny. Don't tell anyone. We have done it for years - but only on the years that church starts early. Is there a twinge of guilt? For me, yes. Could we have the bunny come on Saturday? If we had it together enough. But it's what we've done. And we get a little sugar fix pick-me-up before heading discreetly back to attend the rest of the meetings. Withheld judgement would be appreciated :-)

After church on Sunday, it was like corralling angry chickens to get a picture of the girls all dressed up. Not really, but Lex was dying to get into her sweats, because she is so darn uncomfortable in a skirt. (Her explanation, not mine.) Then the Easter basket hunt could begin.

Trusty Dad had the video camera rolling. SOMEDAY we are going to want to sit for hours on end, enjoying the Easter basket hunt from years gone by. Just like we will relish watching the opening of every Christmas gift from the past 50 years.

Mauri was the only family member that got a new Easter dress this year... handpicked and selected by herself. She LOVES the ruched bodice, the flounce skirt (polka dots a bonus), sequined floral embellishment, and the attached jacket (modesty is important). AND it will match her self-purchased bright pink 3" bejeweled heels that she wears for dress-up. (No, you can't wear them to church).

Mauri found her basket first. The Easter Bunny thought he had done a bang-up job at finding somewhat difficult hiding places. I think it took Mar all of 2 minutes. Next year I'm hiring out.

Shi and Lex whined a bit, since they were still looking after a whole 10 minutes.

After a few blatant hints (anything to stop the whine), they found them fairly quickly.

Lex went straight for a Peep. Personally, I only like them when they harden up a bit.

Note to Bill: Peeps are NOT my favorite candy. Please do not stock up at a post-Easter clearance, and give me a boatload for Mother's Day. Or my birthday (although they WOULD be nice and hard by then).

For Easter dinner, we had the Yoshikawas, Baumgartners, Billats and Angells over. You should have heard the Syddall discussion about seating arrangements. (Yes, I believe in seating arrangements.) It was finally decided to have ALL the children sit in the dining room, and all the parents in the kitchen. My girls were put on a required cell phone ban, and Rebecca passed it along to her girls that it would be a text-free social event. Genius.

It worked splendidly (at least from the parents' point of view -- after all the company had left, we were discussing how the "arrangement" worked. Shilo mentioned a few moments of awkward silence, followed by lengthy discussion from the older crowd about ACT's, college, and the like. Then she said, "It sounded like you guys were all having a good time in the kitchen... talking, laughing, enjoying yourselves..." It just takes practice, I told her, which was the purpose of the arrangement in the first place.)

In conclusion (before I head off to the Science Fair -- more on that another day), I will share our favorite Kids Say the Darndest Things Easter moment, a la Taylor, circa 1999(ish):

"I know you and Dad are Santa,

and I don't believe in the Tooth Fairy,

BUT I KNOW THERE'S AN EASTER BUNNY...

because he comes while we're at church!"

Thursday, April 21, 2011

Little Red Hen

I really don't have time to post. Really. I have a boatload of stuff to get done, but I'm determined to blog fast, then work really hard to catch up.

{Smiley face}

I woke up this morning with my usual ambitions: to be the best mom/wife, who gets the most done, in a kind and efficient manner. Since today was Thursday, and Lex and Shi have a break between Seminary and school on Thursdays (I'm telling you, school schedules these days are skewed), I decided to make muffins for them (for the second week in a row, might I add). Since I used the rest of the opened church-cannery applesauce (from an ancient batch... you know, kinda brown on top... that Bill is determined NOT to throw out, but to use... I think we have a dozen or more bottles left...) in my muffins last week (yum-o, btw), I decided to make banana muffins today. Not only am I going to be an awesome mom/wife, I'm going to do it with variety and flare. And, as luck would have it, I had these beauties in the freezer:

I know, they look totally disgusting, but my girls were at Seminary (and Mar still soundly sleeping)...
they would never know.

{Smiley face}

After a short defrosting period in the microwave, I slipped those slimy innards out of their brown nasty peels, and mashed away.

Because my ambitions of the morning were to be the BEST mom/wife ever, I decided to swap out some of that super-processed white flour with some whole-grain, fiber-filled, nutritious wheat flour. That I would grind myself. Just like the Little Red Hen.

I whipped out the grinder.

This little baby? Worth it's weight in gold. Thanks, Mom, for the recommendation. Within moments, I had a supply of freshly-ground wheat flour.

(I know... I'm a mess.)

Then the Little Red Hen (that's me), transformed that flour and those frozen bananas into something truly scrumptious.

Not the most beautiful, and slightly overbaked (you would think I would learn to adjust times and temps when using those dark baking pans... it was a little too much effort for this morning), but yummy AND somewhat nutritious.

I think my Rooster and Chicks were happy and satisfied.

Here's the super simple recipe:

Best Ever Banana Muffins (I didn't name them, but I like it)

3 lg. bananas

3/4 cup sugar

1 egg

1 tsp. baking soda

1 tsp. baking powder

1/2 tsp. salt

1 1/2 cups flour (I use half white, half whole wheat)

1/3 cup melted butter

Mash bananas. Add sugar and slightly beaten egg. Add the melted butter. Add the dry ingredients. Bake at 375 degrees for 20 minutes. Adjust your temp (350) and time (15-20 mins) if using dark pans. {Smiley face} Makes 1 dozen (I doubled the batch this morning...FYI, in case you are one of those uber-observant people who might conclude, from the above pictures, that you should get 2 dozen from the recipe.)

Back to my boatload. Which includes taking out the garbage containing those nasty slimy banana peels that are stinking up the house. The smell of overripe brown bananas takes me back to queasy stomachs on long road trips from the years of my youth. Random thought, I know.

Sunday, April 17, 2011

Sweet Sorrow

How was that for self control? The week flew by so fast, I hardly noticed that I didn't have a spare minute to post.

We enjoyed having Taylor home this week. I think he rather enjoyed it, too. We spent some good quality mom-and-son time as we ventured into the world of color correction. When he arrived, he looked like this:

Taylor enjoys the world of hair color. He has assisted several ~~desperate college students~~ friends with their attempts at makeover happiness. He has dabbled in at-home hair color involving high-lift tints, bleach, and permanent colorization. Occasionally on girls. Obviously he is trusted. Some may even believe he has a level of expertise, since his mother is a licensed cosmetologist. I'm not sure if he has ever mentioned that she has not practiced (except on family) for years, and has never claimed to be a "colorist."

Hair color is tricky. When I was in beauty school, our main focus was permanent waves (it was the 80's, you know). Predominantly what we affectionately (or not) called "yellow rod perms": time-consuming, meticulous rolling with the next-to-smallest perm rod known to man, on the heads of penny-pinching old ladies. They would then ask for a shampoo/set, which involved rolling that new tightly permed gray hair on larger curlers, placing them under a dryer for 30 minutes, a good back-comb ("nice and tight, please, so it will last all week"), artistic combing of the fine hairs over the top, and a boatload of hairspray.

On occasion, a few of those nice old ladies would color her hair a deep, black color. We would dutifully mix the color according to the pre-determined formula provided by our instructor, and do an oh-so-typical application. Once or twice I had beauty school clients of the younger sort, and would get the chance to apply a weave: highlights tediously woven throughout the hair, so as not to actually be seen, but to give the appearance of "naturally" lightened hair.

Nothing like the dramatic hair color applications widely sought after today.

A few weeks back, Taylor had purchased a box of hair color. He wanted his hair darker, and the darkish brown color on the box spoke to him. AND it was only 3 bucks. What a deal. So he applied the caustic chemicals to his hair, and within a few days (or maybe weeks) he had twinges of color remorse. It turned out a little darker than anticipated. Luckily, he would be traveling home soon, and his mother, the "professional," could help him remedy the situation.

SO... it has been a week-long process of trial and error, leading us through a world of reds and coppers, bleached-out roots, and several applications of drabbing ash-colored permanent AND demi-permanent colors. I told Taylor, "color is not my area of expertise." Now it should be permanently (or at least demi-permanently) ingrained in his psyche. I learned some new things, like "color stripper is pretty much like bleach," and "color correction should be left to professional colorists with years of experience (which is why they can charge out the wazoo for it)" Taylor learned, "don't use permanent hair color. Ever."

The final results weren't stellar, but they were pretty good (maybe even pretty AND good). In my humble opinion, he looked more natural AFTER our week-long process than he did before.

We'll call it a success.

We had dinner Saturday night at our favorite family eatery, in preparation for bidding farewell the next morning.

This morning we had a group hug, and I attempted a picture. I am not a photographer, either. Our favorite inside joke, a la Grandma Goldsberry: We could use it for our Christmas cards. Oh, except Britta's not here.

(We hope to have a visit from Britt VERY soon.)

And the sweet sorrow of parting:

Mauri cried after Taylor left, lamenting that they didn't get to accomplish all she had planned for them to do together during the week. Chin up, I told her, he will be back. Soon. Those Adventure Time episodes can wait. Think of all the fun we DID have: Sonic, Panda Express, and Dominos; Wii, Say What? and Catch Phrase. Not to mention the Colorfest.

It. Was. Awesome.

Monday, April 11, 2011

Too Many Cookies

This morning I am thinking that I have too many cookies on my plate (there IS such a thing), so blogging is going to have to take a back seat for a while. I know, I've said that before, then still managed to post fairly regularly. I'm working on prioritizing, but that doesn't mean I'm good at it. Honestly, I mainly blog for my family. My parents, my in-laws, my children, and yes, even my husband. He thinks my blogging ability is "impressive," which only makes me want to impress him more. And then, I'll admit, I blog a tiny bit for me. Selfish, I know. A mix between scrapbooking and journaling, it gives me the sense of making sure we won't forget the meat of life. The day-to-day.

But before I resign myself to limited blogging time, I will share the weekend. Because it happened. The pictures are few and far between, so I've made a couple substitutions.

Shilo spent Friday evening and most of Saturday here. The whole week prior she had worried and fretted over her first long-course meet of the season. A 50 meter pool.

I spent Friday evening and most of Saturday sitting on hard metal bleachers, observing. Towards the end of the meet Saturday, Shilo and I noticed that a large group of chairs that had been neatly placed in a most convenient location in order to "save" a spot, had not been used ONCE. Most likely someone had arrived early to the meet to save the best seating, but apparently had come a day early, and were really saving the seats for the Sunday meet. That's all we could conclude, since the entire 4 1/2 hours we were in attendance on Saturday, nary a soul even attempted to sit in them. Frustrated that the meet was almost over, and those prime seating spots had gone to waste, Shilo and I pulled out our camp chairs, nicely pushed those 6 unused chairs back, and assumed a more comfortable front-row seating arrangement for the final 30 minutes.

Shilo swam the 200IM, 200 back, and 100 free. She placed first in her heat in each event, and improved her times by many seconds in every race. See? It wasn't so bad.

Lexee had a track meet on Saturday, so Bill and I divided and conquered. He did NOT take a camera, since he was rushing out of the house so as not to miss Lex's first event. That relay. The 800 Medley. The first event of nearly EVERY meet, and the one Lex had the fall on the last time she ran it.

He called to tell me the relay had been a success. Smoother hand-off. No fall. They placed 4th out of 12 teams. AWESOME.

Taylor came into town on Saturday. He drove the long, 10-hour drive from Rexburg to Parker with two fellow-Coloradan girls in tow. I just want to know why that trip goes by so fast when I'm not in the car? He was here around 7 pm (we NEVER get home that early). It's great to have him home for a week or so before he heads back to Idaho. He keeps telling us how nice home is, after living in tight quarters with 5 other guys who have an aversion to washing dishes.

After church on Sunday, at Mauri's insistence, she and Bill flew a kite. I was busily printing locker tags for the track team (more on that in a minute), and Bill neglected to pack a camera, so I will share other kite-flying pictures, circa 2005.

As for my cookies, they are many.

Work. Bill and I have decided that I will NOT continue in the SPED field after this school year. Six more weeks, then one fewer cookie. I could use a less-crowded plate.

Church. I currently serve as the Ward Music Chairperson (a challenge) and a Relief Society teacher (enjoy). I have two additional assignments: Ward cook for Girls Camp (love that), and yesterday Bill and I were asked to be a Ma and Pa for our Stake Pioneer Trek (which I have ALWAYS wanted to do). I have a desire to magnify every calling and assignment, thus have a desperate need to prioritize. Bye-bye blogging. (Okay, maybe just a purposeful reduction will work.)

Volunteer. At the parent Track & Field meeting a sign-up sheet was passed around. Bill and I wanted to be involved, but to a minimal degree, so we jotted down that we would be willing to help, but kept it vague. Next thing you know, Bill is one of only a few parents trained to work concessions (luckily his expertise has not been required frequently), and one of the coaches contacted me to be her fundraising liaison AND the locker tag coordinator. I know. I'm crazy for accepting. You would think I would learn. I've only had 3 parents volunteer to help with locker tags, and there are 75 athletes on the team. It's quite a job.

Friend. I would really love to be a caring and supportive daughter, sister, friend, and neighbor. With better time management, I could make some of those phone calls. I've told my children that communicating through written forms (like texting and blogging) is awesome, but should never take the place of actual verbal conversations. The art of talking to actual people might get lost. I'm taking my own advice.

Mom. Still trying to manage the home. You know, nurture children, organize a menu, pay the bills, do the laundry in a timely manner. It's the biggest cookie of all. And the most important.

So I plan to post less. At least until some of those cookies are consumed in an efficient and worthy manner.

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Insult to Injury and Other Randomness

Remember my injured toe? The one a frozen beef roast fell on from a good 4 ft. high, smashing it and rendering it swollen and purple? The one I limped around with for days, carefully protecting it from people and objects that might carelessly bump or touch it in any way? It had finally started feeling normal. I could walk without a limp. I wasn't defensively yelling, "Stay back!" to anyone who dared to approach the protective safe zone surrounding me. The swelling had dissipated, and the discoloration had all but disappeared.

Then the unimaginable happened. As I was collecting some canned food items to donate to a local charity (for charity, for goodness sakes), unbeknownst to me the wimpy Walmart bag holding the cans discreetly ripped, and out dropped a can of beans. And where did that can land? On the tip of the very toe that had been injured the week earlier. I really, really, really wanted to say a cuss word.

Now I am back to a purple, swollen toe, that has throbbed non-stop for the past day and a half. And to add to my discomfort, one of the {heavier} kindies inadvertently stepped squarely on my foot today. In my mind I can visualize an x-ray of pulverized bone, and amazed doctors asking me how I have tolerated such a horrific injury for so long. I have also imagined the entire toe turning black, followed by the need for amputation, and my family finally showing adequate sympathy for my pain. I have wallowed in suffering and self-pity. But enough about me.

Mauri bid farewell to her horse, Charlie Brown, and mechanical Biscuit dog, Sara.

(That purple bag is holding the can of beans that has caused so much suffering. Stupid can. Stupid wimpy Walmart bag. Stupid me for trusting a Walmart bag to contain several items of considerable weight dangling over an unprotected foot.)

I know, it's pathetic that my last and youngest child has had a stuffed horse and a mechanical dog to shower her love and affection on. Believe me, the dog talk still persists. In my defense, however, in an effort to compensate, I have allowed the birds more access to the house.

Aren't birds the most cuddly, interactive pet ever?

And we found this awesome picture of Lex from the last track meet on an online site for Colorado high school track and field stats.

She doesn't care for it, and even thinks she looks fat. FAT! Are you kidding me? I am thrilled to have an action shot far superior to any I could capture from the bleachers with my point-n-shoot.

Enjoy the rest of your hump day. I love a Wednesday afternoon.

Monday, April 4, 2011

End Results

The week{end} flew by.

I spent Saturday at Lexee's track meet. All day. It was in Colorado Springs, so I left around 9:45 (she left at 6:30), and we returned together around 5. Did I mention that it was 80+ degrees on Saturday? As I was heading out for my hour-long drive to the meet, I chided myself on not bringing a coat, gloves, and a blanket. Hadn't I learned my lesson last year, freezing through meet after meet, one at the very track I was heading to? I knew the forecast was for warmth, but I still thought, perhaps, I should have been better prepared.

Once at the meet, I started to roast. The gradual, slow kind of roasting, that you realize only when you start smelling the perfume human hotness, and sweat starts to drip. I removed my hoodie. Then the burn began. On my right side, the side facing the glaring sun. Unprepared and without sunscreen, I eventually wrapped my hoodie around my arm, hoping to protect it from that blistering, peeling kind of burn. I was too late.

Lexee performed well, and we deemed the meet a success.

Bill stayed home to watch/record General Conference, and supervise the final day of house painting.

(Have I mentioned that I couldn't sleep Friday night due to 1) being awakened at 2 am by Mauri, needing a lengthy re-tuck into bed, 2) blustering winds causing the large sheets of plastic taped around the windows to loudly flap incessantly, and 3) anxiety over my paint-color selection?)

The house looks nice. I am getting used to it. It's not quite what I envisioned, but it's growing on me. I'm coming to accept the fact that my house is green (a very dark green), and it will be for the next 10 years, barring relocation. And, in the {end}, house color doesn't really matter. It's certainly not worth losing sleep over, for pity's sake.

On Sunday we held our traditional biannual Syddall General Conference luncheon. We had a larger group than normal, but it all went smoothly, with plenty of food left over.

Outside it looked like this:

Good thing, I needed a long-sleeved shirt to cover my farmer-burned arm. (I'm still feeling the burn.)

Once those awesome conference sessions were over, we measured the kids. Tradition.

The {end} results: Mauri has grown an inch in the past year, Lex has not grown at all, and Shilo is now as tall as her mamacita. We marveled at the kids' overall growth since our first measurement, back in April 03.

Spring break has come to an {end}, so sad to see it go. As for my wish list, I'm thinking about a 75% success rate. Could be worse.

Friday, April 1, 2011

No Foolin' Around Here

I'm a little stressed about my paint color.

Wow. It is really dark. {Deep breath}

Mauri loves it. I am anxiously awaiting the final result. Trim makes a big difference, you know. At least that's what I'm telling my hyper-ventilating self right now.

April Fools, family. Our house looks like horse poo (which is only slightly better than looking like dog poo).
The color is called Grass Clipping, after all.

It's going to look great...
It's going to look great...
It's going to look great...