William Tell Overture for Moms- This is my life right now!

From the Mouths of Babes

"Iz dat a Muff-dang?" These words floated up the van from the far back seat where my two year-old was avidly looking out the window. My mind slowly translated from toddler to English. "What was that, honey?" I play for time while my mind searches it's database for possible matches. What comes up makes me stifle a laugh. I whip my head around to see what he was looking at. A yellow sports car that does, indeed, look like a Mustang.
You see, he copies everything his older brothers do. His very oldest brother is currently obsessed with sports cars. As we drive, he keeps up a running commentary on every car we pass of interest to him. This habit has spread to even the littlest boy. They all do it now. Brother #2 is an avid Hot Wheels fan, so I was only mildly surprised at what I heard this morning. He was turning a little car over in his hands, examining it from every angle. "I yike dat Fwah-wee" Yes, honey, but what kind of Ferarri is it? When you can tell me, then we'll talk.

He shocked my dear husband the other day, when he was studying for a lesson in bed. This little angel walked up and said, "Dat's Missy and Mee-um's bed, not Daddy's bed." Now, he's never referred to me as anything but Mommy before. To emphasize his point, he pointed to the pillow. "Dat's Missy and Mee-um's bwoo piddow." Well, possession is 9/10 of the law, and we do spend WAY more time in that bed than Daddy, but still....it was a little freaky!

I've changed my life

That sounds a bit inflated and grand, but it's true.

It all started after I weaned my fifth child. When I nurse, my baby weight just falls off me. I actually have to cut back on nursing toward the end, because I get dangerously thin. I always put on a few pounds when I wean, and I'm fine with that. I've weighed the same since I got married.

After #5, something changed. My favorite jeans started getting tighter, more and more unflattering photos were cropping up. I chocked it up to laundry shrinkage, and bad angles, maybe I was retaining water. When most of my clothes no longer fit, and more than a few hideous jowly pictures surfaced, I knew this wasn't just "a bit of a bloat". After years of eating with impunity, I'd hit the wall: the big 30's metabolic slowdown.

I panicked and lost the weight in a crash diet, but hated controlling what I ate so I gained it back and then some. Then I decided to just own it. So I'm almost middle aged, I've had 5 kids, I'm going to end up a squishy, cookie grandma anyway, why fight it? I should embrace my jiggles, exult that I can finally fill an A cup! My husband, whose muscles had looked like they were carved from stone, was getting softer too, so I thought "how cute, we're getting pudgy together!" But he was not as accepting of this as I was, and started working out during lunch. Those chiseled features returned, and I thought "Dang." It's not nearly so fun to get pudgy when your husband looks like you won him in a raffle!

I decided that yes, the day would come when I would become a cookie grandma, but (cue the inspirational music) today is not that day! I would reclaim that young, lithe body whilst it was still within my grasp! I bought a treadmill, and began to run every day. At first it was pretty gross to feel just how much of me was trembling, jiggling and bouncing as I ran, but I kept it up. I loved the glorious feeling of sweat dripping off of me, of my heart pounding and my legs pounding and the power of my body as it worked. I would feel antsy and eager as the time for my workout approached.

I had avoided weighing myself for the first month of my "big life change" because I wanted to be bowled over by my success. Finally, I couldn't resist. I stepped on the scale and CURSES, I had GAINED two pounds! Yes, I know, they were probably two pounds of muscle, but honestly, who needs that? I still couldn't fit into my jeans!

Then, it finally clicked in my brain: I hadn't changed the way I was eating. All those weeks of running, of watching the number of calories burned slowly creep up, one truth sank in. It takes a long time, and a lot of work to burn calories, and my body doesn't need very many of them. I started reading labels, and I was shocked at the things I had been eating. I began filling myself up with real food: fruits, vegetables, or my favorite- beans and rice with pico de gallo on top.

I knew it was finally ingrained in me when I went with my sweety to Carls Jr. I would usually get a milkshake and fries for a snack. This time, I looked at their nutritional information, and almost gagged. A milkshake was 700 calories! Do you know how long that would take me to burn? I was repulsed by what I read. I sat, and watched as my husband consumed almost 2,000 calories. Every now and then he would ask me, "are you sure you don't want any?" Yeah, I'm sure.

I've started a new business

Yes, with the kids going back to school, and with all this leisure time I have, I've embarked on a business venture. I do it on my own free time, and I love it, at least, I love to get paid. I also love the howls of agony and protest I hear whenever I get to work. You see, I'm an independent shoe picker upper. I charge a dollar for every pair I put away, and I've made quite a tidy sum! I made enough to buy this cute mohair sweater from the Limited.

Of course, being the bargain shopper I am, I only paid four dollars for it, but still, that's real job satisfaction. Business is actually drying up for shoes, I have to beg my boys not to pick them up, but they won't listen. To keep up my new stream of income, I've decided to branch out a bit: make beds, put away backpacks, clean up snack messes in the kitchen, I'll do anything for a few bucks. If that works out well, maybe I'll move on to closets!

Time Out for Women

So Friday afternoon, a group of gals from our ward took off to a distant city, which for security reasons, shall remain nameless. You see, we look so good in these pictures, we could attract cyber-stalkers. We were a pretty diverse group, different ages, life experiences and strengths. Some of them were only acquaintances, and others I knew very well. After spending the weekend together, we're definitely all much better friends.

There was a lot of talking and laughing.......

eating delicious food, shopping, telling stories.......

going to the movies, staying up way too late and getting very, very silly.
warning- disturbing images to follow!

The Lone Ranger

Poor Baby, last school year he had no idea he was missing anything. He was still drooling and gnawing on the furniture. This year, as his brothers take off to the bus, he HAS to go with them. He straps on an extra backpack, starts trucking down the sidewalk with little backward glances at me, half scared I'm going to stop him. "Bye, Mom, I go skoo bus!" he calls out. "Have a good day!" I answer. I sit and chat with Jeanne as Baby plays with all the kids on the lawn at the bus stop. As the bus rumbles up the street, kids scramble to claim their place in line, and the little guy just stands and stares in longing. The first time we did this, the bus driver waited for him and asked me if he was getting on. I told her no, he was only two, and she laughed. She waves to him every day now.

A morning to melt the hardest heart

Here he is, after three years of preschool. After so many years of watching and longing. It's finally his turn.

In honor of his special day, the iron-clad rules of school-bus-line etiquette are set aside. Big brother gives up the alpha male position of first in line. Notice how they all go down in height? It's the pecking order.

There he is, shepherding the little guy into a new phase of life. (with a little help from nanny Jill)


I actually, ahem, got a little choked up at this point; watching a kind, supportive brother doing his job.


If you can't tell from his face, this guy is incandescent with joy. sniff.