It's the Cheesiest

Friday is pizza night at our house. I've been making the sauce and crust from scratch this year. They are both delectable. Or so I thought.

Peter: Mom, can we please have frozen pizza tonight?

Me: Why?

Peter: Well, no offense Mom, but I like frozen pizza better than the homemade stuff you make.

When I pressed for his reasons he said that he didn't like when I put several kinds of cheese on, he only wanted mozzarella. I felt a little defeated, but carried on with my meal preparations anyway. When I saw the ingredients in the pot for the sauce I thought, "This is way better than frozen."

He also fessed up to preferring the mac and cheese from the box above the homemade kind I like to serve. Apparently mine is too cheesy.

When Peter is in charge of the meals, he is welcome to eat all the frozen pizza and boxed macaroni and cheese he can stand. But I'm the head chef at my house, and I'll take homemade over the other stuff any day.

Can You Hear Me Now?

I have a question that I really want an answer to. So my friends, help me out.

How do you teach your children to listen? I mean really hear what you're saying.

Okay, go.

The Big Bag

On Sunday Cooper was feeling particularly poetic. He wrote two poems and shared them with me. I feel a strong Dr. Suess/P.D. Eastman influence, what do you think?

The Big Bag

A Big Bag was in the shop

In the what?

In the shop, in the big shop.

The bag is gone.

Where did it go?

I do not know where it will go.

Will it go on a ship?

Will it go in a house?

Nobody knows where the Bag will go.

It will go to the moon.

I know where the Big Bag will go.

Yes I know where the Big Bag will go.

At the park

At the park doing something big.

Doing what?

Doing something Big, something very Big.

I am eating.

Eating something Big.

What am I eating?

Something very Big at the park!

Brrrrr!

I just got back from dropping the boys off at the bus stop. When they got out of the car, the temperature had warmed up to 4 degrees below zero.

That's cold, in case you were curious.

The Tale of the Messies

Friday is movie night at our house. The kids look forward to it all week. We usually eat something relatively tidy (pizza, chicken nuggets, quesadillas, etc.) and get to eat dinner and watch the movie at the same time. It's a big deal round these parts.

Last Friday as I prepared to get the boys from the bus stop, I looked at the state of the house. It wasn't great. We use a variation of the Eyre's family economy, which means that everyone has a zone (a room) that they are responsible to keep clean. For most of last week Phoebe decided that she didn't want to do her zone. She was too tired or too hungry or too busy. She even thought standing in timeout was better than doing her zone. Cooper took a similar stance on the playroom. Peter, who is in charge of the kitchen, thankfully did his zone everyday, but the rest of the house was looking... lived in.

I knew that I wanted the house clean before we watched the movie. I also knew that the boys would see the new collection of library books that the girls and I acquired that morning and want to read until movie time. Nothing would get cleaned.

So I brainstormed. And I prayed for inspiration. Then I brainstormed some more. I kept thinking during the drive to the bus stop, then again on the drive back home.

As the boys were dropping their backpacks on the floor of the living room and getting ready to delve into playing and reading, I got their attention. I said I wanted to tell them a story. I had only an inkling of what the story was when I began. Here's roughly how it went:

Once upon a time, there was a family, a mom and a dad, two brothers and two sisters. This family worked for another family called the Messies. The Messies spent all their time making messes and the other family spent all of their time trying to clean those messes up. It was a miserable existence. But this was their job and, because they lived at their work, they had nowhere else to go. 

One day an old woman knocked on the door. She said she was weary and just wanted a place to rest. Could she come in and sit for a spell? 

This family, being the sweet and kind people that they were, said yes. They welcomed the old woman in and made her comfortable. As they sat near her she leaned toward them and spoke in a hushed voice. 

"I have a secret to tell you. I am not just a tired, old woman. I am really a sorceress. I know about the family that keeps you here as their servants. I know that at this moment they are out, shopping for items that they will use to make more messes. But! I know a way to free you. I know a way to keep the Messies from coming back. If you follow my counsel, this house will be yours." 

Shocked, the family asked what they needed to do. The old woman continued. 

"The Messies love messes. They thrive off of them. They hate order and cleanliness. If you want this house to be yours, if you want to be free of the Messies, you must have the house clean in one hour time. The Messies will return at the conclusion of that hour. If the house is clean, they will not be able to enter and this house shall be yours." 

At this news, the family grew excited. They stood up, ready to get started. But their guest had one more piece of wisdom to share. 

"Teamwork is the key. Work together and you will succeed."

I stopped telling the story. When the old woman had spoken, I had hunched over and used a much older sounding voice. Now I switched back to my own voice. I could tell they were excited about the game that I had created for them, even though the action of the game involved cleaning our house. I told them what time it was and I started the one-hour countdown.

They jumped into action. I had decided that I would help as well, which motivated them even more. We had the very messy playroom (Cooper's zone) clean in six minutes. At that point we split up. Peter and Phoebe cleaned the kitchen and the bedrooms while Cooper and I cleaned the living room, sorted and started laundry, and tidied our shoe/backpack cubbies.

They worked well for a solid thirty minutes. For another fifteen they only got off task a little bit. Cooper and I finished up first and got ready for movie night. Listening to the sounds upstairs, I was almost certain that Peter and Phoebe would not make the deadline. To my surprise (and delight) they finished right on time.

I gave the kids one more piece of information during the last quarter of our game: if the Messies returned, we wouldn't be able to watch a movie because we'd all be too busy cleaning up after them. That may have been the motivation they needed to finish strong.

It was only after the story was over that I realized my tale was true. We are both the Messies and the family that slaves to clean up after them. When we succumb to our natural disorderliness, we create more work for ourselves and therefore limit our freedom to enjoy other, non-cleaning activities. But when we stay on top of the mess, the cleaning goes so much faster and everyone is happier.

Movie night was a success and, because the house was all clean, the next day was great as well.

After the game was over, Cooper asked what would happen if we let the house get messy again.

"Oh," I answered, "the Messies will be able to come back in and take over."

He didn't like the sound of that.

Question Eight

I'm following questions one and two with question eight on the personal history project. Yes, I realize I'm missing some numbers in there. Three through seven were about other people and I decided to answer those in a more private setting. Question eight is also about other people, but it's my memory and perspective of them, so I'm going to allow it!

What are the names of your brothers and sisters?  Describe one or more things that stand out in your mind about each of your siblings.

I am the oldest of the kids in my family. Next is my brother Ian. As a family, we are a funny bunch of people. Humor is a highly valued trait. Of my siblings and I, Ian is the funniest. He can spin tales that send you into peals of laughter. And it's not just how he constructs the stories, it's also how he delivers them. An eyebrow pop here, a head tilt there, he instinctively understands what will get the best reactions from those that are listening. 

After Ian is Jordan. I mentally have two version of Jordan that compete for space in my head. As a child Jordan was larger than life. He was tall and loud. Despite being the youngest for almost four years (or perhaps because of it) he was often the loudest person in the house, regardless of the situation. His laugh is still loud, but adult Jordan is not the same kind of loud that he was as a child. He has grown much more reserved and understated. His humor has become so dry you have to know him well to catch all of his jokes, and even then I'm sure there are some that I miss. He is the tallest of my siblings and his height still gives him a larger than life quality, but now instead of being boisterous, he carries an air of gravitas.

Paige, my only sister, was born after a long gap. According to my mom, Paige was more of an oldest child than a fourth. True to her name, Paige is an excellent example of service. When Peter was born she came and lived with us for five months and took care of him so I could go back to work. She did something similar for my brother. When we moved out here she came and helped wrangle children so I could unpack. She spends her time taking care of those around her.

Isaac is the youngest. When he was a child he liked to tell people that he was named after a prophet. It is appropriate then that Isaac is so spiritual. He lives his faith. He prays for answers, then follows those promptings no matter what. I love talking to Isaac about spiritual experiences he or I have had. I think that it is his spiritual nature that has helped him to be such a good husband to his sweet wife.

Little Girl Rite of Passage

Look what Phoebe discovered.

I've found her putting on my makeup three times this week. Each time I reminded her that she's beautiful without makeup and to please stay out of my stuff. She was terribly disappointed until I mentioned play makeup. I told her that real makeup isn't available until she's a teenager, but I'd be willing to talk about play makeup earlier, like when she's five or six.

She hasn't put on my makeup since.

Family Fun

My brother Ian and his kids spent the weekend at our house. We had a grand time staying indoors (with the windchill, it was 25 degrees below zero outside) and playing. I was so focused on having fun that I didn't pull out my camera until they had been here for almost a day. That means I have no pictures documenting our fun Valentine's Day party or our fancy lunch of chocolate waffles and fresh strawberries. I took lots of pictures the next day, so that makes up the difference, right?

Henry, showing me treasures from his Valentine's Day bag.

Clara, reading to Ian and Phoebe before bedtime.

We watched our digital copy of Big Hero 6. The girls were exceptionally cute during the viewing.

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We had a cousin photo shoot shortly before they went home. I'm not sure if we got any pictures with everyone looking at the camera and smiling, but we sure tried.

This is how Ian smiles for pictures. Don't worry, I make up for it with my gigantic grin.

See?

I made sure to get a picture of me and my little brother.

Thanks for visiting guys! Come back soon!

Baby Blues

A Slice of Heaven

Today was perfect.

Last Friday was spent cleaning due to dinner guests that night and weekend company the next day. Somehow the house survived relatively well, so we didn't need to do much to maintain it today. No chores equals mellow kids. Mellow kids equals relaxed parents.

The boys didn't have school today and Bryan opted to take the day off as well. It was extremely cold outside, so we didn't even attempt going anywhere. Instead, we stayed inside, read books, watched movies, played video games, snuggled, and ate leftovers.

Really, it was a very lazy day, but it was more than that. It was safe and happy and had more kind words and obedient children than not.

Like I said, perfect.

This Is a True Story

I'm often the last person awake at my house. Over the years I've documented my night-owl tendencies and, despite my best efforts, I show no sign of changing my ways. Bryan doesn't really intend to go to sleep before me, but usually Sophie wakes up a few hours after going to sleep when I'm not quite done with my evening to-do list, so Bryan goes and holds her while I finish up. And then he falls asleep, because small children are quite soporific.

Last Saturday was one of those nights. I was cutting out some paper hearts for the next day's Primary singing time activity. Everyone else was upstairs. Peter and Cooper were in their room sleeping. Phoebe was snoozing in her room. Bryan and Sophie were conked out in our room.

I was on the main floor, in the office/dining room, busily snipping. Usually I listen to audio books or watch something on Hulu while I work, but on this night I didn't want to get distracted. Instead, I was sitting in the big quiet room, trying to finish quickly so I could go to sleep. Suddenly, from another room on the main floor, I heard a high-pitched, singsong voice. It did not belong to anyone in my family.

"I see you."

I froze, scissors in mid slice. Working to calm my rapidly beating heart, I thought very seriously about abandoning my project and scurrying upstairs to wake Bryan.

But I didn't.

After I stopped freaking out, I discovered that one of Sophie's toys, a stuffed dog that had originally belonged to Peter, had been left on. If it sits idle for too long, it talks to remind you that it's still on. "I see you" is one of those phrases. Knowing what had been talking to me helped me feel a little better. Still, I didn't linger after my project was done.

Trendsetters

Fourteen years ago today Bryan asked me to be his wife. Spoilers: I said yes.

Last night Sophie, who is still sick, was having a hard time going back to sleep in the middle of the night. I had nursed her and she was fussy and sniffly and just not in the mood to sleep. Bryan asked to hold her. I watched as he cuddled her and listened as he sang and spoke so sweetly to her and I thought, "Wow, I am so glad that I chose him."

Here we are, at the end of our engagement photo session, taking a selfie before it was even a thing.

Happy Engagement Anniversary Bryan!

Sometimes I Forget Stuff

Sometimes I get an idea for a blog post, I write it up, read through it several times, then publish it. It's often at this point that I realize I forgot to include the reason I wanted to write the post in the first place. Ahem.

Such was the case yesterday. I pulled up my blog on my phone partway through the day to see if anyone had commented (because I do that several times a day, in case you were curious) and I discovered I had failed to include the most important part of Peter's jump off.

Peter does not always play by the rules. He is notorious for staying in during a dodge ball game, despite the fact that he's been tagged out, usually more than once. He just keeps throwing those balls and yelling, "It didn't touch me! I'm not out!" This does not earn him friends.

When he was jumping last week, the few times Peter tripped, he sat down right away. He didn't keep jumping in the hopes that no one saw, he followed the rules of the game! Afterward I told him I was most impressed with that. More than how long he jumped or how well, it was his budding integrity that won me over,

Jump Rope for Heart

The girls and I visited Peter's school last week to watch him participate in Jump Rope for Heart. He's been practicing his jumping skills for weeks and I think the work paid off.

First we watched the routines the kids had choreographed. Actually, choreographed is too strong a word. Some of them were very organized. Some... were not. Peter's was right in the middle. I could see him prompting his teammates to help them remember their parts, but I don't think his direction helped much.

After all the groups had performed, the third-graders had a jump off. I filmed all of them. Peter did the best with the first round, jumping more than a minute. He tripped almost immediately in the second round. The third time he did well. In fact, he told me afterward that he sat down without meaning to; he hadn't even tripped. After reviewing the footage, I think he's right. Oh well, he was still one of the last kids jumping.

I realize that maybe only the grandparents will watch this clip, but I'm including it anyway. I think it's cool to watch Peter concentrate on his footwork. This is the third and final round. Listen for Phoebe. She was really excited for Peter.

Pesky Germ Season

This sweet girl is sick. Again. 

She's got her second round of croup this season. She's sniffly and sneezy and goopy and exhausted. In the last three days, sleep has only come to her when Bryan or I have held her, which means we are also exhausted. On Saturday night I finally put her in her bed at 4AM, too tired to hold her. She rapidly cruised the perimeter of her bed, while talking loudly and banging on the wall every time she came to it, for forty-five minutes. Have I mentioned she doesn't get grumpy-tired so much as zany-tired?

Good news though, I think she may have turned a corner. She's still sick, but her face isn't quite as puffy as it was yesterday. And the fever she's run for several days was much lower today. She had enough energy that she wanted to play, but she was still sick enough that when Peter picked her up for a snuggle before Family Home Evening tonight, she sat with him for a few minutes, leaning her tired head on his arm.

Handiwork

During our snow day on Monday I was determined to finish a project I had been working on. I usually do that sort of stuff at night after the kids have gone to sleep, but since Sophie hasn't been sleeping well and Peter's bedtime has gotten later recently, I don't have much project time these days. So when Sophie went down for a nap, I started sewing.

In keeping with my goal to make our house a little fancier, I decided to make some throw pillow covers. Bryan realized that if we bought cheap bed pillows at Walmart we could shake the stuffing down and reshape them to look like throw pillows. And that's just what we did. Last week I found some fabric that I like and on Monday I sewed them. That sounds like it was easy, and I'm happy to say it wasn't as hard as past sewing endeavors have been.

The kids were fascinated by the sewing machine. Instead of shooing them away, I asked if they wanted to have a sewing lesson. Now, me offering to give someone a sewing lesson is very much a blind-leading-the-blind situation. Nevertheless, the kids were all excited.

Peter went first. After showing him how to sew a straight line, he ran to my fabric box, picked out a piece of felt, and announced that he wanted to make a bag for Phoebe. And so he did. I sewed the button on, cut the button hole, and helped him feed the material under the needle, but he did most of the rest of it. Phoebe was delighted with her bag.

Cooper and Phoebe also practiced sewing straight lines, but we ran out of time for them to do anything else. No one sewed their fingers, no one broke my sewing machine, everyone wants to try sewing again. I consider that a success.

Next they all want to learn how to crochet.

The Fashionista

Phoebe wore both of these outfits today. I asked her to open her eyes and she said no, they were supposed to be closed.

She's wearing my shirt in this second one. When she first came downstairs in it she also had my black, knee high, three-inch-heel boots on. I reminded her that those are dangerous and suggested the princess shoes instead. The bow was my idea. The gloves were not.

I think wearing color makes her happy. Also, posing makes her happy.

Happy Birthday To You And You And You And You...

I'm conducting an informal experiment. I'll be looking for results twice, once in five months and again in seventeen months. This experiment requires a few minutes each day at most, and some days it takes no time at all.

Curious?

Over the last few years I've been terrible at wishing my Facebook friends happy birthday. I wanted to leave a nice note for some, but I worried that if I remembered one, but not another, then someone's feelings would be hurt. That's how my brain works. So I chose to do nothing. I would send texts and emails, but I wouldn't write anything on their wall.

Big deal, right?

Well, it turns out I'm truly terrible at keeping in touch with people. I already knew this about myself, but at least I used to comment and say hello on Facebook. I don't really do that so much anymore. Well, I do comment, but only about a third of the time I want to. Other than that I'm kind of a social media hermit. I even type replies, then delete them before publishing anything. Over the past few years, the number of people who wished me a happy birthday went down. I wondered if it had anything to do with my lousy online presence. I hadn't put in the time to maintain our virtual friendship, why should they?

This year I decided to do something different. During 2015 I am wishing all of my Facebook friends a happy birthday. So far a few have even written back. Which means I should probably go respond...

I want to see if the number of people that wish me a happy birthday increases. Because my birthday falls halfway through the year, I'll need to go through a full cycle to check for results, which means eighteen months of online birthday cheer.

I'm sure I've just skewed my results by writing about it, but I have a good reason. This week I discovered a flaw. Two of my good friends had birthdays. In years past I would have sent an email or a text. (Birthday phone calls tend to be reserved for blood relations since that's usually the only gift we give, because in addition to being terrible at keeping in touch, I'm truly awful at giving gifts.) This year I wrote on their Facebook pages, because I had to in order to follow-through with my goal. After I sent the messages I felt like it wasn't enough. But I had already sent a message, so another in text or email form would be overkill, right? Except that Facebook really isn't very personal.

And now you know my first-world problem for today.

Snowed In

I love snow days.

We've had more snow days here than anywhere we've lived before. In Utah snow days were something we heard about, but never experienced. I remember driving Peter to school in blizzard-like conditions and still nothing was canceled. I wrote on the blog about the few snow days we had in Washington. Those were funny simply because there were only trace amounts of snow each time.

Here in New Jersey, we have real snow. I woke up one morning last week sometime around 3AM to the sounds of snowplows scraping the cold white stuff off the roads. We've also had a handful of late start days. I think those exist to give the plows a chance to work their snow clearing magic.

I like having an excuse to not run errands or be out in the freezing cold air. And often snow days turn into pajama days. We read books and do art projects and eat big, slow breakfasts. I even let the kids watch movies, which no doubt adds to the wonder of the day.

I'm not a big fan of cold, or winter, or snow, but I do love a good snow day.

On the Role of the Older Sibling

Miss Phoebe gave her first talk in Primary yesterday. She was asked to speak about the Savior. Last week I asked for her thoughts about Jesus. "I love him," she said. Why? I asked. "Because he's kind and loving."

That sparked a conversation about being kind and loving in our family. I took the things we talked about and typed them up, added a story about Jesus, and printed it out. I suspect if we had practiced it before the drive to church (which was the first time she heard the whole talk) she would have been able to memorize it. Instead, she did a lovely job repeating it while I whispered in her ear at the mic.

And now, for preservation sake, here is Phoebe's talk.

I have a baby sister named Sophie. She is so cute and I love her a lot. I try hard to keep her safe. She’s little and doesn’t understand what is safe and what is not. I pick up little toys that she might try to put in her mouth and I watch to make sure she doesn’t crawl up our stairs. I want to be a good big sister because I love her.

We all have a big brother who loves us. He wants us to be safe and happy. He knows that we sometimes get hurt or make mistakes. Because he loves us so much, he made it possible for us to repent. That’s a fancy word that means to erase the mistake we’ve made.

Jesus is our older brother. Before he died, he went to a place called the Garden of Gethsemane and said a special prayer. During that prayer he felt all the pain that we’ve ever felt and all the pain that we’ll ever feel in our whole lives. He did that so we would never be alone when we’re hurt. He did that so we can repent and someday live with Heavenly Father again.

Jesus Christ is my Savior and I love him.

I say these things in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.