frazzled & frumpy

It started with Jordan B. He was blonde and cute. He never kissed me, but we held hands-once. My stomach fluttered every time I saw him. For Valentine's day, he bought me a carnation. True love. As true as any 13 year-old can feel. Then it happened. He dumped me. Rejection is a part of life, we all know this. But, unlike broccoli, I've never developed a taste for it. It tastes just as bitter now as it did in jr. high. If you offered it on a silver platter, I'd have to refuse. Lately, though, I've learned to swallow it with little more than a grimace. It comes from practice. My first book rejection happened over 2 years ago. It was my first novel and I thought it was brilliant. My family supported this idea and I submitted it to a publisher with high hopes. I'd heard all the stories about writers who get rejected over and over. Whatever. That would not happen to me. After 18 months, yes, that's a year and a half, the publishing company finally stopped stringing

I was reading cjane this morning and it made me cry. (Great! Puffy eyes added to the already glamorous look I have going.) Her post was about her nephew going into the MTC. As I went to leave a comment, I counted and realized that we have just nine months till Adam turns 19. Wow. Nine months, just like a pregnancy. Next December I will 'give birth' to a missionary. But, the pregnancy for this new child takes much longer than 9 months, it literally takes 19 years. I know that not all boys opt to go on missions, and that's ok. Having served one myself (Guy, too) I really want my sons to go. We have prayed and hoped and prayed some more that this would happen. Since they were very small we have talked about them going. Here's how many of our conversations went- "Mom, can I have a motorcycle someday?" "When you get home from your mission and move out , then you can." (I have a real problem with motorcycles, inherited from my mother.) "Mom, I want

It's a lazy morning. Noah is in the tub. Jacob is downstairs asleep. He had a very traumatic experience yesterday called 'getting your ingrown toenails removed'. Of all my kids, he has the lowest pain tolerance. Seriously. He's a big baby. Really big. And, if you even mention the word 'shot' his face goes white and he almost passes out. So, we went to the doctor's office and he sat down on the table. The cute nurse pulls out a needle and begins to fill it. I thought he might puke. Once she got all the supplies ready, in walks Brother, I mean, Doctor S. (He lives in our ward.) Jake laid down and Dr. S started with the numbing. This was a very difficult thing for me. Jake was literally writhing on the table. I think I even saw a tear. Thing is, when your kid gets to be 16 and he's taller than you, there isn't much you can do for them when they're in pain. My little kids would welcome my comforting hand holding theirs or even if I hugged them during

Love week has ended. Our last days consisted of treats and me counting the ways I love my kids. It's funny, some of them take the love notes and put them carefully away. Others just leave them wherever and then, I pick them up and put them away myself because I'm convinced that someday they'll want them. Sometimes it doesn't seem to make a difference, but I hope it does. I'll end the week with two of my favorite things. Being with Guy and going to the temple. It's always nice to go and get that gentle reminder of what's really important. And, guess what? It isn't the broken car or the empty bank account or whether or not anyone is ever going to publish my book. It's good to regain some focus, to remember what I love most. My family. The gospel. My Savior. Happy Love Week

A few years ago, I started decorating for Valentine's Day like a party, streamer and balloons,etc. Then, a couple years ago, we expanded the V-day celebrations into 'Love Week'. My kids look forward to this every year. I put up the decor, it isn't expensive, note the construction paper hearts. These are kids we're talking about. They don't care. I also planned a nice Chinese dinner and heart shaped brownies and ice cream. I loved that Valentine's landed on Monday, so our FHE was about love. I read Mosiah 4:14 to them and asked them how we could 'fight and quarrel one with another' less. "Well, Adam could not pick on me." "And Hunter could try to not be annoying." "You're both annoying." Yeah, that's how our FHE usually goes. Anyway, I then read them the next verse, which says- "But ye will teach them to walk in the ways of soberness; ye will teach them to love one another, and to serve one another." I

"The only time to eat diet food is while you're waiting for the steak to cook."-Julia Childs I LOVE eating out. It's fabulous. I mean, you could probably make the same thing at home. Ok, probably not, unless you're my sister. Ellen does make restaurant recipes, but she's a much better cook than me. But, making it at home really defeats the purpose, doesn't it? At home, no one comes and brings me a diet Coke (with lemon) and then asks what I'd like to eat. At home, I stand in front of the pantry and wonder what to cook. At a restaurant, I get to look at a lovely menu and wonder what to have someone else cook for me. Then, I get to sit across the table from my honey and bat my eyelashes at him. We play footsie under the table and we talk about world news. Hahahahaha. We talk about the kids, of course. What else? But, we get to do it while we eat yummy food that someone else has prepared. And, when I suck down my glass of diet Coke, they bring me another

With the advent of this L oving month, I thought I'd share a few things that make it on my cupid's list. First of all, this- is what is keeping me from doing laundry. I've actually finished this first one and am well into book #2. Mr. Mull is a bit of a genius. His imagery is amazing and the story is great. I'm always impressed when middle grade books can keep adults interested. (Hopefully, someday, mine will do the same.) Two of my kids have read the entire series and are waiting, quite impatiently, for the last one. I love books. There's nothing like escaping into a fantasy world with excitement and danger that your own world is lacking. For many years, my oldest kids struggled with reading and avoided it at all costs. Now, after much time working with them (and having them read with tapes or cd's) they've learned to love it. I have a hard time getting after them for staying up late when they're in bed reading. How can I fault them for following my

(I do not look like this when I make breakfast, if I make breakfast!) As I was putting on my makeup this morning, I wondered, "How many other women would put on makeup for the grocery store and a YW Presidency meeting?" My sister and I used to watch the Donna Reed show (in reruns, we're not that old!-that's her in the picture.) I know this is how the tv shows portrayed them, but did women really look like that when they were home all day? Pearls and all? I don't even own pearls. I do, however, wear makeup. Not if I won't be leaving the house. But, as you know, the term 'stay at home mom' is deceiving. We don't 'stay at home' much. Which means, most days, I put on my face. Do you? I guess it's a vanity thing. OK, I know it is. There was a time when I looked good, all fresh-faced and bare. Those days are behind me. Way behind. Did your mom teach you to put on makeup? Mine didn't. She bought me some frosty blue

Hunter came in my room this morning and greeted me with, " Morning, mom, hack, hack." He disappeared into the bathroom and I buried deeper under the covers. (The tv was on, letting me know how wonderfully cold it is outside. Don't have to tell me, my house didn't fell much warmer.) Out of the latrine, he barked again, "I think I might need to stay home," he added couple hacks for emphasis. "If you stay home, there'll be no computer or Wii." No response, just lots more coughing to let me know just how sick he was. I gave him some medicine and sent him to school. We do have some nastiness running rampant through our house lately. I went to sleep last night to a lullaby of coughs and sniffs. My breakfast consisted of Airborne and a multi-vitamin. It isn't anything serious, just colds, but that doesn't mean I want to share. Kids sick is one thing. Mom sick is a whole different issue. I'm dreaming of warm days when I can open my windows