Denali 2012

I have setup another blog that is specific to the climb that I will be doing in Alaska this May, 2012.  For those that want to follow along here is the link:

Expedition 2012 Climbing "The High One"

Quotes to Live By...

"Form a habit of pushing on through the fatigue and fear that might make you think of quitting."

"I can't be a perfect servant every hour, but I can try to give more effort than I thought I could."

Both by President Henry B. Eyring, First Counselor in the First Presidency of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.

Here's another one...

"We are never alone when we stand with our Father in Heaven." --President Thomas S. Monson, President of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.


I know my Heavenly Father is mindful of me, because he put these quotes in my reading path yesterday and today. How did He know I wanted to sleep, zone out my mind, and quit? How did He know that I want to be a perfect servant for Him so much that the effort seems almost too much? To be perfect all the time is beyond me, but to give more effort and then some more? That I can do -- or at least try. How did He know I've been feeling so alone lately, with J's work schedule, my single-mom-type life, my long absence from the temple, and my spotty scripture study? Well, no wonder I've been feeling alone, but I don't have to be. Back to the temple I go, back to diligent, meaningful, consistent scripture study, back to my Father in Heaven, and I won't feel alone. Already I feel Him with me again. He always knows just what I need.

I didn't used to feel known and beloved of my Heavenly Father. I grew up learning/thinking that he was a misty far-off being just watching me from the distant heavens. I know now that He knows me. He loves me. He cares about the details of my life. And what an amazing gift that knowledge is.

The Young Professionals

I am married to what I call a "young professional." He is in his 30's, working in the technology industry at a "9-to-5" job (Oh yes, there's a reason I put that in quotes!) in the prime of his life. He balances work, leisure, self-improvement, and family and he looks dang good doing it. I have been thinking about this a lot lately, but it really hit home last night while at the funeral services of J's friend and co-worker. This man too was a young professional. He was 39 years old, a salesman at J's company, in the prime of his life. He worked hard, played hard, lived life to the fullest, loved his wife, 9 year old daughter and 3 year old son with a passion, and was infinitely positive and happy. The funeral service included a time when anyone in attendance could share thoughts and memories of Terry. His parents and a few of his lifelong friends spoke. He made such an impact on peoples' lives. I couldn't help but wish that at least one of his co-workers would get up and pay tribute to him. There were so many in attendance at the services that knew Terry from work. J considered it but, in the end, decided it was a night just for family and close friends. It really was, but it did get me thinking about the "young professional" as a breed. These men -- my man included -- spend most of their waking hours at work. Their lives, their friendships, their energy, their thoughts revolve around work (well, and if they're male -- sex.) As much as I'd like to think that the kids and I are J's top priority and center of his world, I realize that we are not. We hear quotes like: "You are what you repeatedly do." Well, J works, works, and works some more. And when he's not working, he's working out with people with whom he works. Or he's thinking about work. Or he's thinking about and texting the co-workers with whom he works out about the work-out. Or he's sore from the work-out.

It helped me to realize this. I've had a hard time lately with how much J has been at work. I've teased him at night, asking him if I should get into bed with him and whoever he is texting from work. I've tried to pull his focus back to me and the kids. I've tried and tried, and I've been frustrated and discouraged by my failed efforts. But he is a "young professional." He is work. His friendships are all at work. And somehow, it will all work out.

From the Mouth of Babes...

Another H-ism:

This is a conversation we had while he was idly patting my belly fat this morning...

H: "You have a big belly, Mom."
Me: "It's squishy and jiggly, isn't it? Do you like it?"
H: "Yeah. It's soft. But those," here he points to my diminutive chest "you just put those on in the morning."
Me: "Yes, you're right about that, Son!"

To get ready for the day, some people their 'outfit' on and their 'look' together by getting dressed. Some people put their 'face' on by putting on makeup. Me? I put my boobs on when I put on my bra.


And can I just say, there is no shame in shopping in the little girls' section for clothes, but there is no dignity buying bras from the little girls' bra section. Do I really need ice cream cones or rainbows printed all over my bras? I don't think so.

Careful!

H climbed on my lap at a concert we attended today. This is what he said once he got himself situated:

"Be careful, Mom -- I have hiccups."

Duly noted, little one.

Pumpkin Pies

Esther will have to tell the story of how she ended up with 70 cups worth of pumpkin purée. Here are some pictures documenting the carnage.

Baking the pumpkins:



Gutting the pumpkins:




The pumpkin carcases:



The end result, yummy homemade pumpkin pie:

Smelly, Silly

While holding my crying 4-year old...

Me: You smell nice. (Nuzzling his cozy jammies and soft fuzzy head)

H: It's because my tears smell nice. I cried and my tear saliva spread all over my face. My tear saliva smells like chocolate.

Happy Birthday, J!

So...I thought it would be pretty funny to put 37 candles on the cake I made for J's 37th birthday. The cake was a 4"x8" rectangle with a cupcake in the middle. (It was a camera, but it wasn't impressive, so no pictures.) The candles were placed about 1/4" apart from each other, a motley assortment. The cake was fairly bristling with candles, a few of them randomly sparking as they were the relighting kind.

I was right. It was funny. The heat from the candles melted some of the frosting off the cake. The blown-out candles made so much smoke I thought the smoke detector was going to go off. It was fantastic!

Happy Birthday, J!

BfD

When I ask my boys, "Should we have pancakes for dinner?" and they reply in the affirmative with a resounding cheer, "Yay!!!" I think, "I have the best kids in the whole world!"

"Between the Folds"

In choosing our netflix movie to watch tonight, I suggested the above title. J had watched part of it on a business trip a little while ago. His input? "There are some super-nerdy people in this movie," followed immediately by, "You'll really like it!" What's that supposed to mean, J? But you know what? I really did. I highly recommend this PBS documentary on Origami. Wow. So very cool. And yes, super-nerdy. Which I am. And totally okay with.

Punctuality (or Nature Calls)

First off, let me say that I did not plan to end my blogging hiatus with a "rant post," but I just kinda go with whatever is in my head at the time. Sorry.

So...punctuality. I am a fan. I have always been a huge fan. I think I got it from my mom who set all the clocks in our house 5 minutes fast. I took to heart the saying on the poster in my high school band room: "To be early is to be on time. To be on time is to be late. To be late is to be in trouble!" I am big into punctuality.

So, since I am so big into punctuality, why, in the past two days, have I sent two separate sons off to gymnastics and piano, respectively, late? Two words: Nature Calls. Let me elaborate. Yesterday at 4:15PM I pull on my shoes, grab my bag, sunglasses, and car keys, and call to O, "O! Time for gymnastics! Let's go!" I hear his little feet on the stairs and look over to see his cute little face peek around the corner. He says, "I have to poop. Do I have time to poop?" And what do you say to that, really? So 20 minutes later, we are finally in the car on our way to gymnastics. He was 15 minutes late. Today at 4:17 S says, "I have to poop." 12 minutes later I knock on the bathroom door and remind him that he has to go to piano. "Okay, Mom!" He finally heads out the door and down the street at 4:35 -- 5 minutes late for his piano lesson. I think about calling out the door after him, "You're late! Run!" but think better of it because, let's face it, he won't listen anyway. What is a mom supposed to do? How is it that the bowels of my sons move fearfully slow? Is it because they are boys? It happens with their dad too. He walk in from work, heads to the bathroom, and 25 minutes later emerges to greet his family. It must be a male thing. What mom really has time to spend 15 minutes or more on the pot? Did Heavenly Father make us this way? Moms' bowels move more efficiently, dads' take longer? How do I foster punctuality in my boys when I'm fighting against nature?

A Small Summer Project

Esther installing our new bike rack.

Hammer drill - $250
5/32" mason bit - $3
Watching my wife hammer drill into the brick - priceless!

A Summer Fling...

This year has been packed with too much business travel during the prime climbing season. However, at the spur of the moment I cashed in on some frequent flyer miles and hotel points, flew up to Oregon, and climbed Mt. Hood.



This trip had to be quick so I packed all the climbing gear in a rugged duffel bag and wore some of my climbing gear to work. After work I caught a late flight into Portland and met up with my climbing buddies who had been climbing Rainier the week before.

We woke the next day early in the morning and started the climb, here are some highlights.



















It was a beautiful day, the view was amazing, and we all made it back safely. The next day I flew home and went back to work -- oh yay!

I Am a Mother

I knew I was a mother when...

I picked my infant baby's nose with my bare fingers when no tissue was available.

I ate saliva-y left-overs without a second thought.

I held close a vomit-y boy when he was sick.

I wore my son's work-of-art pin/hat/etc. proudly in public.

And today, I knew I was a mother when I heard the words, "I hate you!" yelled at me during piano practice.

The Haps

Here is a rundown of what has been happening lately...

We put a great and spacious play set in our backyard. It is a pirate ship, club house, picnic spot, and all around big hit.

J has been working on our garden. It is beautiful in its organization, layout, and function. He is a mad genius perfectionist gardener.

The school year ended. Programs, Pioneer trek, and dance festivals. I walked into the house one morning after a run to my boys having a shirtless dance party in the front room to Taio Cruz's "Dynamite" thanks to not only Scera Park Elementary but also Cherry Hill Elementary. Now H walks around singing, "I'm only gonna break break break break break your heart," S "Pop it, lock it, polka dot it...," and O "I wanna celebrate and live my life..."

School is out. My boys are all home with me for the summer. Bliss and boredom. Fun and fighting. The usual. But all day now.

We met my parents in Moab for a weekend. Toasty fun. Chuck wagon, Arches National Park, hotel pool, Hummer ride.

I ran the Wasatch Back for the 3rd year in a row. I am addicted to this painful, sleep-deprived, exhausting kind of fun.

I will post on these events one by one. Stay tuned...

Raising Boys - The seven stages of conflict.

Sam Pulling Oliver around the front yard. (Peacetime)



(2 minutes later...)

Stage #1 - (Latent Conflict or Unstable Peace):

It exists whenever individuals, groups, organizations, or nations have differences that bother one or the other, but those differences are not great enough to cause one side to act to alter the situation.



Stage #2 (Conflict Emergence) and Stage #3 (Conflict Escalation) are mostly skipped in these situations or happen faster than the naked eye can capture. Here we see Ollie in Stage #4 (Hurting):


** As a side note - the bat of choice shown here is mostly made of foam.

Stage #5 (De-escalation):

Conflict de-escalation is associated with reduced grievances, at least for members of one side. This change occurs as relations between the adversaries change, in the course of the struggle.

Here Ollie is pondering his recent actions and trying to move to Stage #6 (Dispute Settlement) and Stage #7 (Post-Conflict/Peace-Building):

T-Shirt Envy

I found the next t-shirt of my dreams...



here at "The Onion." Fantastic, isn't it?

Wasatch Front...and Back

Our last few days in California, J took charge of the boys so I could run the So Cal Ragnar. These pictures are all courtesy of my sister-in-law, whose first Ragnar (and not the last) this was.

We started at 6:45 AM on Friday morning in Huntington Beach:


Here's Alisa finishing up her first leg,


the merman we saw along the way,


me finishing up my first leg (too bad I didn't have a camera on me during the run; you could've seen pictures of the homeless people sleeping under the bridges I ran past),


waiting to begin our second legs (a sassy bunch of women, if I do say so myself),


a beautiful sight we saw along the way (and we did thank him for running with his shirt off),


another beautiful thing we saw,


and our tats, taken at the finish line on Coronado Island.


It was beautiful, hard, hot, sleepless, exhausting, and fun fun fun! Our van was so much fun, and our team's van 2 was awesome (thanks to Valerie for filling in 3 days before the race!)! Thanks especially to my sweetie who crammed all three boys in the back of a mid-size sedan and played single dad for a day and a half so I could go exhaust myself on the race course and be completely useless for a few days following!
Can't wait for Wasatch Back!

My Best Friend's Ex-Boyfriend

Today my awesome neighbor, friend, running buddy, hair artist extraordinaire, brought over a tote of clothes she was going to send to DI (non-Utahans think: thrift store, Salvation Army.) She does this periodically when she goes through her wardrobe because she knows I am helpless when it comes to clothes, that I am pretty stingy when it comes to spending any kind of money on myself, and because she rocks. I found a few nice shirts and jeans to supplement my closet and will take the rest to DI. This neighbor has style and always looks cute and classy, so the clothes I get from her are unfailingly cute. Pluses all around. However, because I am neurotic, I feel like I need a mourning period before I put on the clothes and wear them as my own. Although I have never dated a best friend's ex-boyfriend before, I imagine this is what it feels like. For the first few times that I wear one of these articles of clothing and receive a compliment on it, I feel like I need to explain, "Yeah, I know it's super cute. It's my neighbor's. She didn't want it anymore and let me pick what I wanted before she donated the rest." Then after a I've had the clothes for a while, I don't need to explain anymore and they become mine. Is that weird? I have a few things she gave me last year that I haven't worn yet because the mourning period is not quite over yet. Yes, it sounds strange, but imagine you've just started dating your best friend's ex-boyfriend, and you may understand how I feel.

California 2011 - Part 1 (Vacation)

This last week the family drove out to California to have a little vacation and support Esther in the Ragnar relay. Here are a few pictures of the trip: