Tuesday, May 31, 2011


Does being a mom go in cycles?
Pregnancy was Spring.  I was vibrant and fresh and glowing and warm.  My confidence grew with my waistline.

When the baby came I was spinning in circles so fast.  Who am I?  Who is he?  What am I supposed to do?  What just happened?  How do I answer that question?  I don't like that idea.  I don't want to hurt any one's feelings.  Does Ken still love me?  Do I still love him?  Does the baby know who I am?  Will he ever?  Why won't he smile?  Why won't he look at me?  He looks at everyone else.  Am I scary?  Am I hurting him?  He doesn't look anything like me.  He doesn't feel like my baby.  It was a rainy season.

Then summer.  Koley smiled.  He giggled.  He nuzzled into my shoulder.  He'd reach for me.  He splashed in his tub.  His tub got promoted to the kitchen sink.  He'd sleep all night.  He'd sleep all day if I let him.  He babbled.  He held his head up.  He would roll from one side to the other.  He smiled.  He ate Baby Mum Mums.  His life was warm and so was mine.  Every day was new and vivid.
  Last night I decided to nurse The Kolebear to sleep.  I haven't done that since the first weeks of his life.  I just needed to feel close to him.  I needed him.  Shouldn't it be the other way around?  Shouldn't he need me?  He can do so much on his own.  Get his own toys.  Pull down his own books.  Turn the pages.  Crawl.  Climb.  Stand.  Make himself laugh.  Say a few words.  Ken has missed things.  I have missed Ken.  I've heard people say that I'm a single mom.  I've never felt that way.  Kole is becoming so independent.


Monday, May 30, 2011

12 Year Old Patty

My mom always encouraged us to write in our journals as often as we could but especially on Sundays.
I was going through old journals this weekend and cer-acking up.

November 4, 96  (I was 12.  I'm typing it as it was written.)
Happy Holidays!  Yes, the holiday season has begun.  No real snow yet but I can tells it's on the way.  Me and Mark are still together. Although two boys at school like me and want to ask me out I will just have to say
1.  I am taken
2.  I'm not allowed
3.  Only Mormons
I have a lot of people to get Christmas stuff for I have to start saving money!  I will get back to Christmas in one minute but first VOTEING DAY is tommorrow. And if Bill Clinton wins I will surely commit suicide.  1st- He might have murdered someone.  TWO-  He has had MANY affairs.  Is tha the kind of guy we want running our country?  I THINK NOT!  Bob Dole rocks the world.  VOTE DOLE!  Now back to Christmas.  I would like to list everyone I would want to get Christmas things for and write what it is I would like to purchase and an average of what to spend on he or she.  This may take a few days.  First NICOLE my best friend.  I want to get her a card and I don't know but an average of like $5-10.00.  MISSY card and a necklace. (5.00) AMBER card and earrings.  That's all for today.  Love, PATTY

Okay- some things I thought were funny:
1.  I'm "still together" with Mark (which meant we saw each other at church and maybe sat next to each other) but couldn't be with either of the two boys who liked me at school.  Who are un-named making me think.... they didn't exist.
2.  I used "Only Mormons" as an excuse.  Had the blinders on there.  One of my favorite boyfriends was non-LDS.  And German.
3.  I spelled voting and tomorrow wrong. And I was TWELVE! Shame on you 12-year-old Patty.  Shame on you.  
4.  According to me, Bill Clinton murdered someone. 
5.  I was suicidal.  (No I wasn't.  Not even close.)  I think we could replace suicidal with dramatic.
6.  I was 6 years away from being able to vote but campaigning (to my journal) to vote for Bob Dole.
7.  I gave up on that Christmas list thing pretty quickly.  It was getting a bit repetitive I guess.

That's me.  In the middle.  Circa 12 years old.

Saturday, May 28, 2011

Face on a Milk Carton

I've worn glasses since third grade.  I got this really old-lady trendy pair.  They were big and round and plastic.  They had a light blue and lavender water-colory mosaic thing going on.  Really brought out.... the fact that I had bad eyes.  Me and my dad went to LensCrafters and they gave me my eye exam and I was so excited to see!  So in the exam room the doctor gave me a pair not for looks just to make sure it was the right prescription.  Then I went to pick out my frames.  I kept trying them on and thought something was wrong. I kept asking for them to bring me different glasses.  More and more and more. We were there for a long time and dad finally asked what was wrong with all these glasses.  "I can't see out of any of them!"  I had NO idea that the frames were just frames with fake glass.  Yeah.  Then I felt sheepish and maybe that's why I picked the granny frames I picked.  I also was really excited to wear them to school and show my teacher Ms. Sable.  And you know what?  She wasn't there that day!  A substitute was there.  I was completely deflated.  And when Ms.  Sable did finally get back to school she didn't even notice the first day. I was so upset.  I wrote in my journal about it.  I should try to find that.
Man, it would be hard to teach elementary.  When your student depend on you so much for validation.  Whoa. 
ANYWAY-Some time in the last 20 years glasses became really cool.  People who don't even need glasses wear them as an accessory.  I'm happy about this because the optical industry finally caught on that there are people under the age of 75 who need glasses and who don't want the same set as their grandma.
Last spring I got new glasses. (Not the first time since third grade by the way.) They were called "Red Coin."  I loved that name.  They were square and small and red with a silver stripe on the sides.  Not punk red.  Not too attention grabbing but very mature metallic red. (Normally I don't think mature and metallic can go in the same sentence... but here it works.) They were up-town. Like those stilettos that are black with a red sole you can only see when she is walking.  Yeah.  Like that.  You think she's business- but...wait... yeah, she's hot.  They were dignified with a little danger.  You know I was trying to send the statement that I quietly live on the edge. 
To the story.
I forgot my glasses in Salt Lake.  I guess I was so busy pretending to be a world traveler I forgot to give the hotel room the once over.  I left my whole makeup bag.  It had my glasses, contact case, and all my makeup and my Extra Strength Excedrin.  I love that Excedrin.  It's not an addiction- it's the only thing that can stave off the Koley pains I get.  That's replaceable.  Makeup is replaceable too- but it's gonna cost like $50.   I have enough practice with makeup that I can wear it without looking like I am wearing it.  But- I still NEED to wear it or I think I look like a troll.  If it was mid summer and I was all tanned up.  This would be no big deal.  You don't need makeup when you are sun kissed.  I look so... tired.  And pale.  And like I should put some makeup on!  I called the hotel.  And asked if a "cosmetic bag" was left in room 518.  (Slipped right back into mysterious traveler mode there.)  They were going to check and call me back.
Ken goes down every week so in my head I was thinking- I'll have everything back on Tuesday.  I can get through this weekend.  But, um, no.  If they DO have my bag- Ken will pick it up on Tuesday.  I will get it on Friday. 
And I really hope they have it because I don't think I'll be able to convince Ken to buy me another pair of designer glasses that our insurance doesn't cover.  I played the tumor card once- I don't think it will work again.
I'll have to introduce myself to the $20 and Under Glasses wall at Walmart.

Friday, May 27, 2011

Labels Hurt

Took a little over nighter to the Big Salt Lake City.  It was my darling's birthday.  (I saw a motel called The OverNiter and that really got me going.)  We stayed at my favorite hotel.  Staying at a hotel makes me feel ultra-important in general.  Like I have a story. It's deep and complicated. And traveling is all a part of the aura.
It's kinda like when I was in high school and my choir group would go to to the air port and sing during Christmas time.  (Are you getting the picture of the kind of teen I was.) After we sang for 45 minutes or so we had the rest of the day to spend... at the airport.  Nothing like a day pretending to be on stand by.  My other choir members would eat at the airport restaurants or grab a Cinnabon or buy Cosmo and give each other the twenty quizzes that are in those things. But my favorite thing to do was to get on the moving walkways and pretend I was about to miss my flight.  I'd pass others and gently touch their arm with an urgent "Excuse me" or pass them and pretend to stumble, catch myself, and turn around and wave a "Merry Christmas!"  I'd stare at my (empty) wrist and then pick up my pace.  Ha!  I felt so important.  Staying at a hotel makes me feel that same way.  No one knows my back story.  I'm just a twenty-something, independent traveler.  With mysterious eyes.
 I love going into the bathroom and seeing all the toiletries lined up and the origami towels. There were at least 15 stacked up and then two nice big thick ones on each rack.  They had the washrags shaped as fans and even the toilet paper was folded creatively.  Oh the rapture of staying in a hotel!  I picked up the dainty body of body wash and it read "Cleanse."  I breathed deeper.... yes.... cleanse.  I picked up the lotion "Moisturize."  Another exhale...Mmmmmm....Moisturize!  I picked up the mouthwash "Refresh."  All these brilliantly labeled little bottles were transporting me to another realm of tranquility.  I picked up the bar of soap.  It read:

Clean Your Face.


Back to reality.  Clean Your Face?  That doesn't sound nice.   It doesn't quite roll off the tongue like cleanse and refresh and moisturize.  When I read it... my mind added to it.  As if the mini bar of soap was talking to me.  "Clean Your Face You Filthy Bum!  Try to look presentable- You're in Public!"  I looked in the mirror.  I wasn't a international traveler with oodles of rupees and mysterious eyes.  (Certainly dancing eyes but in no way mysterious.)  I had Kole on my hip.  He smelled pretty... stale.  And he had drooled a considerable amount on my shoulder.  My hair was frizzy from the rain and half up half down.  My shirt was all stretched out.  My makeup had been rubbed almost totally off.

And I did indeed needed to clean my face. 

I just don't know why I had to be told so bluntly.

Trying something a little new here:
Want to win ad space on The Bloggess? Link up your best post at lovelinks on free fringes like I did!

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Because Mini Goals Make Me Feel Better

I had to add 22 more things to my list.  Got some inspirations SLASH copied some ideas from The Thumber.  Her bucket list is incredible.  I am normally anti-bucket list because so many are so generic.  Go skydiving, climb a mountain, smell a rose blah blah, blah blah, blah blah.  But The Thumber's Bucket List?  Very detailed and thought out and is going to involve some mighty hefty airfares.  Love that.
I still refuse to make my own bucket list.
I have a little under 80 days for my 26 Before 27.  79 to be exact.  I think this is the jolt my life battery needed.  I may have overshot here a bit.  But failures are fun to post about too.  So, please bring the envelope....

Thank you.

And the list is:
  1. Dye my own hair
  2. Knit a scarf
  3. Decorate a cake
  4. Go swing dancing with Ken
  5. Golf 18 holes
  6. Retry the foods I don’t like (tomatoes are done...yuck.  Mushrooms are done..pretty good!)
  7. Hike the Menan Butte
  8. Introduce myself to one new person a week
  9. Watch “Casablanca," “Citizen Kane,” and "An Affair to Remember"
  10. Get 27 blog followers
  11. Start a Gratitude Journal
  12. Complete a DIY project
  13. Go to the Hogle Zoo
  14. Do one act of service per week
  15. Cook all weekend meals for Ken (this oughtta be funny)
  16. Finish “Gone Away Lake” (This is the only book I have started and not finished.  I started it in 3rd grade.  It's still haunting me!  Gotta track it down)
  17. Plant a tree
  18. Write a letter to the president (heck.  I'll even mail it.)
  19. Play piano solo
  20. Read 5 (more) books
  21. Begin aggressive treatment for the Graves and The Tumor
  22. Run the Firecracker 5k (...eeeks.  I already wish I didn't put this one down.)
  23. Switch to homemade bread
  24. Start my own savings account
  25. Gift a magazine subscription  (I love getting a magazine every month.  I want someone else to feel that happy.....  but whom?)
  26. Get my idea patented (And no I am not telling you what my great idea is. You'll just steal it.)

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Another Check Mark Please!

So DIY is really in vogue right now.  I think my generation is creative and resourceful and proud of who they are. I haven't jumped on the DIY wagon (or the coupon wagon or the hair bow wagon or the bead wagon).  It's a pretty fancy and full wagon.  There's not a lot of room for under qualified beginners.  I've secretly tried my hand at a couple of my own little projects and they have turned to disasters.  So I am a BIY person.  Buy It Yourself.  My sister, Julia, on the other hand.  Whoa.  She's got it down.  She can do like 8 projects a week for close to no cash and have a house that looks like a amazing. Sigh. Jealous. It looks like she's a BIY but she's a DIY.  Sigh.  Again.  Jealous.  Again.

Now,  I'm no pro.  I'm just getting started.  But I did my own little project over the weekend.

It's a FUZZY VELVET POSTER!  I love these.  You can never go out of the lines.

These yellow and green fish were my favorite.  I really took some time and tested some palettes before I colored them.  I think the time and thought put into them is evident.
I think this can go on my check list for 26 Before 27.  A DIY project.  Voila!  Done.

Wednesday, May 18, 2011


I'm good at a lot of things.  Like a lot a lot.  Reading fast, making egg salad sandwiches, using my turn signals.  You know, I'm a grade "A" citizen.
With all my accomplishments stacking up there is an area of my life in which I am... lacking.

 I'm a pro at listening and encouraging (or criticizing others on a personal level OBVIOUSLY).  I'm funny.  I'm smart.  I'm educated.  I've traveled.  I read the news and I'm up to date on all my current events both locally and globally. I marinate for hours in celebrity gossip and pop culture.  I've been living with the weather since my earthly debut. I'm not a sport extremist but I can certainly hold my coffee.  I should be a specialist.  I should be able to write a how-to article.
My small talk is cheese cake.  Smooth and sweet (sometimes fruity) and goes down easy.  But after that...
I panic.
When the small talk takes that slippery slope into Talking Township it's all downhill.  (That's a bit redundant.)  I can't converse.  Discussion is simply not in my repertoire.
Let's take tonight.  I had a dinner party at my neighbor's house. I've lived here for 5 years.  I know these people.  I've seen them cut their grass, shovel their snow, go to and return from vacations, get the mail in their robes.  Can you see how connected I am with them?  We've partied before.  It was the same old deck of cards- same characters.  This should have been effortless.
But it wasn't.
I choked.
I was even set up for the perfect spike and ended up face down on the gym floor.
Someone might ask: "Does Kole sleep all night?"  Simple.  Easy.  Perfect segway for me to open up and go on and on and on.  What do I say?  "Yes."  Not even "Yes, he does."  I can't get out three words.  All I say is "yes."  I smile and then there is immeasurable silence.  I don't elaborate on his other habits, his age, my favorite things about him, things I have learned, questions about their children or lives.  Just yes. Then another set up "So, Patty, how is the house-selling coming?" And I say, "It's coming."  *crickets*  Hopeful smiling at me, they nod as they wait for more details and slowly the smiles begin the fade and the nods slow down and the person looks away wishing there will be someone there to save them.  I am the one who needs saving.  The person walks away. I'm not offended.  It's not the first time I've been shunned for my condition.  
I think of what I could have said.  "We've had some interest."  That's not bad. I'll say that.  It's a step up.  So, the next victim comes along/I approach someone else eager to try my line.  After we exchange hellos I knew it was coming.  I was all ready.  I was repeating the line over and over in my head.  My knees were clanking.  My smile was anxious. "So," they begin.  This is it.  This is it! "How's the house-selling going?"  And I said... nothing for about 5 seconds...I felt the heat in my cheeks.  What was I gonna say?What was I gonna say?  What was the question?  "Patty?"  "Oh, yeah, the house, is really nice and interesting."
I did not use my lame line.
I did not even answer the question.
This happens to me over and over.
I suffocate in social situations.
After the small talk- I should just go home.

Monday, May 16, 2011

Let It Go

I have an incredibly ambitious, honest, loving, husband who does things that drive me nutso.  I think we all have a man like this in our life.  Kenner is stupendous and can be stupendously OCD. 

SIDENOTE: Sometimes I think people use OCD as a code that really means obnoxious and annoying.  Like "I'm OCD about that."  No- you're just a pain in the arse about that. 

This weekend Kenny-Bear was loading the dishwasher (depositing into the emotional bank account.  Bravo, husband, bravo.)  When Ken loads the dishwasher he likes to examine what I already put in.  I had put in a plate that I made Tiffany Nachos on.  Did I rinse the plate?  No.  Do I ever rinse the plates?  No.  Ken put on his dad hat and tie and laid this little sermon on me.
"Honey.  You really have to rinse these dishes.  We don't want all that gunk clogging up the dishwasher, do we?  Come on.  I've told you about this over and over.  Just rinse them.  It's not hard and then I don't have to keep reminding you."

Um... yeah.  My skin was crawling.  My jaw clenched.  And in my head I yelled, "LEAVE ME ALONE!"

I waited like 30 seconds.  Cool off, Patty, cool off. Ken was just staring at me with his eyebrows up-you know, waiting for a response-  which makes me even more mad.  Then, I had an epiphany. 

"Let it Go."

So, I did. 
The fact is that we all live with people who do things that bother us.  I don't rinse the dishes.  And I walk through the house with my shoes on.  And I go to the bathroom twice before I go to bed.  Ken HATES these little quirks.
And he does things that drive me nuts.  He'll cook something in the microwave for like a minute 45.  Then when there's 12 seconds left he just opens the door and takes his food out.  He doesn't clear the 12 seconds off!  So, when I look at the microwave to see what time it is- I just see a blinking 12.  AAAAAA-nnoying. 
Yeah-talk about little things right?  Little itty bitty teeny weeny minuscule things that bugs the white right off my skin.
I didn't learn to rinse the dishes from my lecture... sorry Kenmo... you're going to have to give me another talking to.... I learned that:  The people we live with do things that bother us... whether it be
  • not clearing the microwave
  • not rinsing off dishes
  • always getting the mail first
  • keeping shoes on
  • leaving clothes in the washer
  • dumping their fur from their electric razor in the nice clean sink
  • leaving hair clots in the tub drain
  • tucking socks under the couch
  • never replacing the toilet paper (leaving one stranded)
But every time these diminutive habits flare up just Let It Go.  It's not that hard to push "clear" on the microwave.  And the dishwasher will most likely wash that cheese off.  What's more important?  To let the person you share your life with know that they do things that makes your blood curdle OR to let them know that they are loved and irreplaceable and you think they are perfect just the way they are.  With or without that GD microwave blinking a 12.

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

My Tail Is Not Between My Legs

My newest favoritest blog is "And then she was blah blah blah." I was reading back through the archives and came across this post that says the thing I have been trying to come up with for a week.  So all credits and applause to Ru. I hope I'm not getting too stalker-ish. 

I hate:

1. The belief that because I tell the truth, I am necessarily admirable.

This is based on false logic.  The truth is good, as is the search for truth.  But your opinion is not the truth.

But I'm sharing my honest opinion!  you say.  I'm being real when most people are just being phoneys!

The fact that you are being genuine may be admirable.  But if you are a genuine ass, don't be surprised when people treat you as such.

2. The belief that because I shared my honest opinion, I cannot be criticized.

Look, you shared your opinion.  Now you have to be prepared to back it up.  The fact that I dislike or disagree with your opinion does not make me a bigot or infringe on your First Amendment rights.  (Because as much as I wish otherwise, I am not a government agent.  I digress.)

If you are going to enter the marketplace of ideas, you don't get run right back inside your fortress of solitude as soon as you've shouted your opinion in my face, without giving me time to respond.

3. The belief that all criticism is hateful.

Look.  I may have unnecessarily thick skin when it comes to this final issue.  I wrote for a certain unnamed college newspaper back in the day, and I remember every nasty thing anyone ever said about my writing/my opinion/me.  I was called stupid, bigoted, lame, hypocritical, prejudiced, biased, dishonest, and someone even implied I was into BDSM.  (Don't google that if you don't know what it means.)

Did it hurt my feelings?  Sometimes.  But it made me very aware of the line between criticizing a subject, and criticizing a person.

Calling my ideas stupid is not hateful.  Calling me stupid is.  Only if I actually am stupid will I fail to see the distinction here.

I don't even think I need to put a closer on here.
See you tomorrow folks.

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

Being Maternal

Life is remarkable.  Yes?  Yes.
Last year on Mother’s Day I was gestating a miracle baby.
I always feel funny when people call Kole a miracle baby.  Sure he came against all medical odds after we were told to try not to think about it.  Or dwell on it.

Or hope for it. 

But even in my saddest hours- I was happy with Ken as my family. 
Then our family grew.
Well I grew first- by about 70 pounds.  I knew that it had never happened before and my doctor assured me it wouldn’t….but I was certain I would be the first pregnant woman to explode. 
My skin hurt from being so tight.  And was it ever shiny!  And itchy.

Kole came one day late.
Like his Grandpa Poulsen.  (as we tease.)
Delivering a baby earned me my Stripes.
After that-  I was lost.
I felt empty.
Out of it.

Wasn’t this supposed to come more naturally?  I am a woman.  A strong, capable, nurturing woman.  Why can’t I do this?  I needed to call my mom.
She came.
And rescued.
And saved the message I left on her machine crying.
She came every day at 11 o’clock for 2 weeks.
I watched my mom (when I was awake).
Studied her to pick up tips.
That’s how you hold him.
This will make him burp.
Support him.
Just hold him.
It’s okay- he can’t smile yet.
You’ve got it.

Then she turned him over to me.

I didn’t feel that “overwhelming love” every mother in the world told me about.
As soon as you hold your baby you will feel an overwhelming love.
Wasn’t there for me.
Every time I held my baby I cried.
I cried when I changed his diaper.
I cried when I got peed on.
I cried when I bathed him.
I cried when I nursed him.
I cried when I read to him.
I cried when I cuddled him.
I cried.

I felt like he didn’t want me for his mother.
I wasn’t a mother anyway.
My mom was a mother.
Not me.
I couldn’t do anything right.
He wouldn’t even look at me.

Weeks passed- I learned.
Learned to turn down the hot water on his bath.
Learned to cover that pee pee before it would shoot me.
Learned crying is okay.... for both of us.
Learned to say no.
Learned to stand up for myself and my babying techniques.
(even though I wasn’t sure about them myself)
Learned to love my family as the three of us…. Not the two of us.

I promised myself that the day I felt like a mom- I would write it down.
Journal what happened.
Record the remarkable change or epiphany or transformation.

I have no recollection of the day.
But it happened.

Koley is mine all mine.
He’s the happiest boy on Planet Earth.
He is tender hearted and a goof ball.
We love and understand one another.
There is a mutual respect between me and my cub.
I think we speak through telepathy.

I feel whole.
Full of love.

I feel like a mom.

I am one.

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

Let The Walls Fall Down

Kole became really mobile this week.  (Please continue to emphasize the "i" in mobile... I like the long "i" sound.)  Personally, I think it was spending a weekend with his cousins of all sizes.  He got the hint that he could move on his own if he wanted.  It was a long time coming but the change came over night.  I had heard moms say that and always figured it was an exaggeration.  Nope!  Since the baby came I have thought our house was pretty baby proof.  I had to throw those socket protectors in and install a baby gate- but I felt like my bases were covered.  But this week has proved me absolutely wrong and led me to the conclusion that:  Yes, I am a bad mother.  Or, as my friend Karlenn has said of herself, "Bad mom move #768."  The woman has four kids. I've only got one and my Bad Mom Move count is nearing the 10,000 mark.  So kudos to Karros.
With Kole moving.... it's like a tornado has gone through.  He doesn't even move that fast!  He's not making a mess either really.  How to put this.  Maybe a list.

  1. The floor lamp.  It's about 6 feet high.  Rod iron. Apparently, really unstable.
  2. A flower vase.  Not a mini one. But not from high up either.  It's on of those big, girth-y floor vases that have sticks in them.  Yeah- it weighs like 20 pounds but he tipped it over... onto himself.
  3. The vacuum.  Kole has had a long running, hot and cold relationship with the vacuum.  He loves it he hates it.  All pretty junior high if you ask me.  They are on a love peak right now.  Well, with showing the house I do a lot of cleaning and I had the vacuum out.  Kole was exploring.  Stroking the vacuum, admiring the vacuum, reciting sonnets to the vacuum.  Then, he hit the level that releases the handle.  And he was trapped by the vacuum.  Screaming and kicking and so sure he would never escape.  I'm sure this will have an effect on their relationship.
  4. There's been all the normal little things too.  Books.  The kid ones- not any encyclopedias.  Sippy cups.  Those plastic containers wipes come in.  The mail.  How is this child still moving  Why isn't he limping or dragging a little leg behind him when he crawls?  How is he not completely bruised?
What baffles me is I am there all the time.  Watching him.  Like a golden eagle.  And then I bend to tie my shoe or look out the window to see if it's still raining and ka-frickin-boom.  Kole is pinned.  I think hope it's getting better.  So far today his only injury is a paper cut on that space between your lips and nose.  It's gotta be painful.  And I didn't give it to him.  He likes putting everything in his mouth.  Such are the hazards of his occupation. 
As hard as I am on myself for my guardianship over him (or lack thereof) he's been sweeter and more snugly lately.  I know, who thought that was even possible, right? He's started to rest his head on my shoulder and just hold me there.  When I think I've hit rock bottom and they should take away my mom badge- he reassures me that I'm doing all right.

Monday, May 2, 2011

Girl of the Hour

The Bradley girls were here for a total of 2 weeks.  Slowly they trickled back to their homes.  Andi stayed the longest.  She left yesterday. It's so sad to me when everyone goes home.  It's lonely.  I feel like I'll just sit in my boring house all boring day and think boring thoughts and look out the boring window and eat sweets.  The eating isn't boring- but it is bad for me.  I eat to fill my heart.  That doesn't work.  Habits are hard to break though, aren't they?  Especially when they taste so good.
Andi did a beautiful tribute to her trip on her blog.  It's worth looking at.  She's practically a celebrity you know.  Remember when I talked about her winning the lottery in every aspect of her life?  You don't?  Shame.  Shame.  Shame.  Read up kiddos.  She WON!  She won the Mormon Message contest!  "Stand Tall" took 1st place in the amateur US/Canada/Mexico division.  I am so proud of her.  She scored 500 big ones and kicked her shopping spree into over-drive.  Me and my mom joked about whether or not they would just send her $450... you know... that would take care of her tithing.  Or maybe they would just credit the whole thing to her tithing and she could have a couple Sundays off.   Is that wrong?  Nah!  It's funny!
She also taught a class at BYU-I while she was here (gathering more followers on her blog) and did a wedding shoot and slept over here one night with me and the Kolester.  I am just pleased as punch to see my littlest sister catching her dream and being so happy.  You can check out her "whole life story" in LDS Living the second weekend in May.  She was contacted for an interview and claimed she held nothing back during the nearly two hour conversation.  I expect to see her next on the cover of Vogue or Bazaar.

Love you, An.
Miss you.

I miss the rest of you sisters too.  Don't go getting all jealous.