Sunday, March 30, 2008

Lindsey's TWO!




Dang. And we just got her trained to say "one" and stick up her cute little finger whenever strangers asked the age question.

video

She's still being trained in the ways of "the force." We tried to give her a bat, but she had already found her prefered weapon. Not bad for a youngling.

Cousins! And One Fun Filled Week.


We had my sister Mary and her 4 boys favor us with a visit, followed by Jared's sister Sandi and her 4 kids later in the week. (Maybe our January cruise advertising scheme worked.) The following pictures reveal the state of constant chaos/constant party that results with 7 kids, two chatty moms, and an oft disappearing dad, in a 2 bdrm apt for a week.



Deej hosted the Andrus boys in a howling late-night blowout in the kid's room.


Meanwhile, in mom and dad's room, Afton climbed into Lindsey's crib to watch the fascinating screen saver on my computer and have a little female slumber soiree of their own. (Lindsey was a little less enthusiastic about sharing her sleeping quarters.)




A day of free fun at Travel Town. Thanks to LA city and taxpayers alike.



The intoxication levels from this Candy Pa-Tay could likely rival those from any Rage hosted in South Pas this year! (Brad was obviously feeling rather bullish about the Easter Egg Market this year and planned accordingly with his basket size. He did end up with some great yields.)



video



Dallin learned the sport of small pseudo-steam engine racing from the Andrus boys, then taught it to Sandi's boys on their visit. The train engineer obviously wasn't thrilled to be challenged on his own turf.





Especially since he kept losing.


Thanks for coming everyone! And I hope this post serves to persuade rather than scare more of you into coming for a visit.


Sunday, March 9, 2008

The Super Speed Action


I am currently riding on the Super Speed Action roller coaster. I think I am on the 6th of the 128 loops, just before the 3rd big dip. As you may have guessed, this ride, and the other one pictured here, the updated 200 Fast Speed Action were designed, drawn, and named by Dallin. He is riding the latter, which, I assume, is in a cooler climate due to the fact that he is donning a Russian ushanka, complete with ear flaps. (Either that or his plans to grow a mullet and perm his hair are now revealed.)

It’s just been recently that I realized my present existence IS a variable fast and slow-paced, heart-pounding ride on these very roller coasters. The epiphany struck while I sat marveling at Dallin’s designs the other day; half excited, half petrified at the thought of continually swirling through the vortex of tracks that occasionally dead end and pick up somewhere else on the page without explanation.

I needn’t explain to any pregnant or formally pregnant woman the emotional, hormonal and physical ride of the blessed 40 weeks we call gestation. But for those of you who haven’t been there, it really is a terrifying thrill. I can’t and won’t experience everything that others will in life, but I’m glad that I get to experience this one.

That, however, only accounts for one dimension of the ride. Besides the ups and downs, there is twisting and rolling. I drag myself up each morning at the bleating of a nearly two year old Lindsey from her crib, “Maaaaaaaa, maaaaaaaa . . . . maaaaaaaaaaa, maaaaaaaaaaa,” a sound that has replaced the buzzing of my alarm clock in its ability to emote grouchy tendencies throughout the whole of my frame. But somewhere, in the shuffling walk toward her crib, her surprised, raised eyebrows, and outstretched baby arms the sound changes into one of my favorites. “Maaaaaa, maaaaaaaaaaa? . . . . Maaaaaaaa, maaaaaaaaa?” she says in disbelief at my arrival. And then I am rewarded with one of those awesome stomach-lifting dips in the roller coaster—soft little arms clutching around my neck in a squeeze that can never last long enough before she pulls away to look me in the eyes and very solemnly, zero.3 inches from my face, assures that I am taking her to the kitchen.
After retrieving breakfast for each of the three 5-and-unders, making sure that everyone gets the proper type of cereal in their bowl of choice and with just the right amount of milk and favorite spoon, we start the upward hill of getting dressed. Dallin and Afton like to choose what they will be wearing. Afton prefers to wear underwear. . . and that is about it. So, it is with considerable coaxing that I talk her into choosing something besides her bare skin or favorite pair of pajamas. Dallin, on the other hand, has no problem wearing clothes, and will even ask my opinion on what “works” together.
“Mom, what can I wear with this new shirt?”
“These brown shorts.”
“Ooooh . . . . .” he says smugly laying them down next to each other, “so brown and new match!”
Meanwhile, Afton preens as she asks for a purple bow to accompany her outfit.

And thus, another task I approach with boredom turns into a part of my ride that I would gladly get back into line for.

All this, along with the fun, suprising adventure of my life with Jared make me wonder what will be around the next corner for us. As President Hinckley said so well, and for my own sanity I must remember, the trick is to "enjoy the ride."

Posted by Sarah