The Parker Press Release

The Missing Yosemite Video

2009-11-09T02:37:00.000-08:00

This is the video that didn't cooperate from that last long post. If it works . . .

From the Yosemite trip with the Parkers. Special thanks to Brad for perfoming the music. If Davy ever makes it big in the entertainment industry, you'll know at what age he got the hunger for the stage.

I Can Survive

2009-11-08T19:41:00.000-08:00

The Arizona Summer--it was my nemesis just a few short months ago, but I have now proudly conquered and defeated the foe (thanks to a few short weeks--OK, just over a month, spent on a Utah/California Sabbatical of sorts. I really needed to study some seasonal weather patterns in those regions). So, since there have been several mornings now where I have NOT been turning on the AC while taking the kiddies to school, I'm inclined to declare that the Arizona Fall has officially begun and while we relish these mid 80 temps, I reminisce on Summer '09 for our happy little family.

Spencer and Conner Andrus stayed with us for several days. There is something about colorful blocks and several independently humming children that gladdens the soul.
The backyard hose was immensely popular this summer

We lucked out in June and had one of the coolest on record, and by the time July came, starting at 103 and continuing to even more sweltering high temps, we were in our Pathfinder, laughing at our good fortune and heading for the western coast. We made it there just in time to pack up with the Parker family and enjoy a luxurious trip to the North Pines campsite at Yosemite National Park. I can only describe with pictures. And one short video. And maybe a few quick comments on the pictures and video.

We hiked a doozy of a hike--one that probably should not be attempted with young children. There were no strollers going up this trail (the top of the mist trail). But they did it with only our prodding, Grandpa's promises of ice cream, and occasional adult piggyback rides to spur them on. Here Lindsey and Roxy hike with Kelly and Jason.

Us at the top of a cliff with a huge fall behind us. OK, so the kids may have run out of energy a bit.

A dip in the sand and water were a good pick-me-up for the way back down.

Josh, after (and during) the hike.

Ice cream bars, as promised! Sooooo worth all the physical strain.

All dressed up for church at the Yosemite Chapel.

Looks just like a planned professional picture, right? Except for the fact that none of us had showered.

Kids love group pictures.

Uncle Jason's treasure map was cracked and the sucker treasure was consumed in 5 min flat.

We couldn't decide if Lindsey and Roxy were the dirtiest . . .

or Lindsey and Josh.

Unshaven brothers.

Following the Yosemite trip we lounged and did work via the Parker family loft, while the kids rebonded with cousins and drank loads of Grandma's hand mixed flavored water drinks. For a second time, we took the kids on a walk for miles--this time across The City. And when the 4th of July rolled around we loaded up the Bus and drove a mile or two down to the Marina where we ate vacation-only junk food and watched 24 until the city fireworks started up. The kids even enjoyed a few fireworks brought in from out of state several years ago--nothing has a longer shelf life.

Back at Grandma and pa's house: You can never fit too many kids on a swing.

A rowdy group of Buccaneers with a cannon ball in the center.

Connor turned 2. Can you get any cuter? Can the cake get any cooler? (made by his mom and dad. Who also appreciate a good episode of Ace of Cakes.)

Afton and kids at the SF Sea Lions. You know just where this is, if you've ever been there.

Riding BART to the city.

Brad and Luke at Hard Rock.

And right after we, almost, learned our lesson from the Yosemite hike we marched the children all over SF. Poor kids thought they may get a prize at Chinatown for their labors.

Deej and Afton are totally into the "thumbs up"--international symbol.

Uncle Jason had the kids hanging from the bars on the train ride home.

Uncle Mike shooting at what appears to be an unarmed water-fighter.

4th of July

* A special thanks to my mother-in-law, Barb, for all the pictures. I don't think I took one on the entire trip. I knew she had me covered.

The Bay Area was gorgeous, as always, and very refreshing. The hills surrounding us were the yellowy, bumpy, flaky crust of a cherry pie, and I sat right in the middle, breathing in that sweet smelling air. On jogs, I could run during the middle of the day, with a permanent coastal A/C unit following me around. It was luxurious.
Following California, I successfully persuaded Jared into the necessity of a second leg of the trip: my little hometown, Lindon, Utah. We planned on the stay lasting for just a few days, but more siblings kept showing up and Jared continued to chug away at work, the best he could, sparing the rest of us from the 116 degree battle with my archenemy.

If nothin else is goin on, you can always sit on the back steps by Grandpa E's boots and suck your way through a twin pop.

The late rains and snows made for a greener than green Utah this year--which can't be beat. All that colorful foliage climbing up the steep, towering slopes is breathtaking.

My sister Mary's friends, the Hickson's made it out this year, and a good bunch of us went to the Oquirrh Mountain Temple open house.

Tibble Fork, AF Canyon. Nothing like snow melt to cool your paws.

Jared demonstrated to the boys some serious skipping skills. On one throw it the rock nearly skipped it's way to the other shore. It is one of Jared's lesser known talents.

Davy and Carmel, sharing a hug amongst bags of laundry. Davy's shirt reads: Lock up your daughters. It's very appropriate--for a number of reasons.

Enjoying some 24th of July fire-work fountains.

and sparklers.

Jared taugh Davy how to dunk and hang on the rim.

At long last, we returned home and found a lot of indoor activities to entertain ourselves with: like eating PB straight out of the jar--no spoon neccesary. We did some more playing in the back yard with the hose and prepped for an early first day of school: the beginning of August!

By the way, I do not condone this. I am just willing to take pictures for evidence purposes.

First day of first grade! Loved it.

Kissed goodbye by Lindsey who anxiously awaited her own first day, which kicked off when school is REALLY supposed to start--after Labor Day.

One more year of preschool, until Aft is swallowed up into the school system and taken away from me forever. We are enjoying her while we still can.

The Ol' Pink Slip

2009-10-29T21:09:00.000-07:00

Economy as it is, it's a real downer to get demoted, or, worse yet, pushed out onto the streets without a benefit to one's name. Lucky for me I was just demoted. Being demoted by your husband, though, does have it's own peculiar kind of sting. Just kidding actually. I'd better explain myself before the Big J realizes I've made another post and decides to give it a quick skimming (I'm not sure he has time for a full-minded read at this point).

The story goes like this: I was hired by Jared and his partners to do some bookeeping. As of late, the number of properties owned by the fund, and the turnover rate has increased. These are good things--but not so much for a little stay-at-home mom/completely inexperienced bookeeper who sometimes (but not ALL the time) can't decide what is for dinner until 5 o'clock anyway. Throw in a few figures to run and emergency checks to put out at 4:30 pm, and dinner doesn't happen until 7:00 that evening! Meanwhile, during those 4:30-6:00 hours, while my head is bent over reciepts and a 17 inch laptop, four scavengerous kids have ransacked the pantry, eaten half a large carton of goldfish, and left the other half on the table. A table which Davy then climbs upon and uses his height advantage to better strew the goldfish upon all kitchen surfaces in a 10 ft radius and upon those always unlucky close-to-kitchen carpet areas.

Sooo. . . . it was getting a little bad. But we really realized something had to give when several Saturday nights were spent side by side, desk by desk doing work. When long sighs, and side-long glances have more to do with impatiently waiting for your spouse to finish scanning so he can hand you back the printer line, you know something has really, really, reeeaaalllly got to give.

So the guys hired another little stay at home mom to do the job--one with experience and a handy accountant husband to refer to. And I still have a few of the accounts to work on so that I can feel important, and even better than that--I have time to blog! You lucky readers you. I am bound and determined to post some great summer pictures and stories, and maybe we'll make it to Halloween before Thanksgiving! That is my goal, lofty though it is--I'm shooting for it.

Watch Out World, Here Comes Day-fee

2009-08-02T22:29:00.000-07:00

Davy is so entertaining. My nephews follow him around when they have no Harry Potter books to read and relay his step by step moves in their reality TV show "Davy In His Natural Habitat." It IS funny. First of all, to imagine his plumpalicious figure, picture a severely swayed back of a well-ridden horse coupled with the softest white doughy tummy you've seen of late. His shoulders are pulled back making it look like he leads with his chest, but due to the size advantage of his tummy, it is the first thing you see when he rounds the corner.

Davy's movements resemble those of a drunk chimp--constant tipping and swaying and toe-stub-induced-falling to the ground in an almost graceful, purposeful movement. Rarely does it provoke a sob or moan. Falling is just part of natural forward-propelling movement for him. He's on the ground almost as much as he is up, and while he's down sometimes he'll rest and do a face down carpet angel, pick up bits of what-ever is on the ground, or roll onto his back and get excited about the ceiling fan. But much of the time he'll jump right up after the fall and continue with a purposeful face (hilarious on babies) toward some random thing that has caught his interest, be it dust floating in a ray of light from the window, greasy face imprints on my mirror left from his siblings, or a pack of kids he wants to follow and shoot down with his outstretched arms and two chubby pointer fingers. Pichooowww. His shooting noises are hilarious, and if you respond with any kind of injured grunt, you will get a good giggle from him and a minimum of 5 more pointer finger laser beams.

I still have not posted about his birthday, and the sad part is that he was so different then, so it's a shame. But really, he was the same funny boy. It was just 3 1/2 months ago. The day after Easter, but we combined it with the whole Easter hurrah.

The 1st birthday celebratee had no idea, of course that he was in any way being honored, but enjoyed the bounteous access to dropped and forgotten candy throughout the day. After church we did dinner and the hunt at my sister Mary's house, which was ideal. Enough grass to send the kids on several rounds before determining that the eggs were indeed all gone, a trampoline to count the spoils on, and space for a quick game of kickball that the overly sugared kids wimped out on and left to the adults.

Then there was the cake--one of my best looking yet, but pretty much not good tasting at all, just shy of being dubbed "gross". Luckily we were already all sugared out, so it served it's purpose as a candle prop and we ate a few bites along with ice cream.

Happy Birthday Davy Boy!

And I'm seriously expected to look straight at those blue eyes and do some disciplining?. . . Maybe at two.Stuffed into the Easter clothes and stuffed on the couch for the token Easter shot (Davy had already been outside before the 8:30 am church--note the dirty knees)

He was laying innocently behind me on the kitchen floor before suddenly being endowed with a handful of jellybeans placed on his chest by a passer-by. Yay Easter!
I hold this bag and say "Cheese."

Striking the pre-hunt pose.

And they're off!

The euphoria of the catch!

Volcanic cake, found on Family Fun website--a great one.

I came home from shopping one day to present Jared with a "costume" I had inadvertently picked out--the same shirt and pants as Sandman, from Spiderman 3. Never knew I had a thing for Sandman, but Jared looks great in it.

Exhuses, Exhuses

2009-08-02T22:00:00.000-07:00

I know, it's crazy. I've been a slacka. I have to say it all comes down to the fact that I weaned David some time back. I no longer have to be on my laptop while nursing to prevent sleep, thereby prevent certain house destruction that will occur if certain family members know that I have fallen asleep on the couch.
Now I'm always awake and usually up to 72% alert (except when Davy is in his crib asleep and the kids are plugged in for a quick afternoon cartoon pick-me-up. That's when I know I can let my eyelids droop.)
Still--blogging time? Haven't quite nailed that down yet. But I will try a quick one-night-catch up for now.

Summa Time

2009-06-14T22:19:00.000-07:00

Arizona is experiencing unusually cool weather patterns. We are soaking the mid 90 degree weather in like cookies in milk. We'll take it. As much as we can get of it. I think the 90s last until this Wednesday. So we have a few more days of outside play time until 108 hits and we are slapped back inside by the heat.
I feel I'm ready however. I've got a cell phone full of friends with pools. The kids are learning to swim, put their heads under the water, doggie paddle to the edge, make backstrokes in the air while sitting on the side, and watch their mom run around while bent half over, from the edge of the pool, then down the pool stairs, then up again and around the pool circumference--6 inches from the edge the whole time, chasing a confident, little, pot bellied, dough-skinned boy.
We've got some summer get-aways in the works too, so we'll get through all right. We'll prove that we can join in with those pioneers and cave-dwelling Indians and brave the Arizona weather (with our air conditioners and cars and pools and splash parks and indoor fast-food playstructures.) No problem.

FINALLY FREE!!!

2009-05-31T18:04:00.000-07:00

Lindsey has at long last come to live to the ripe old age of three and live to tell about it (survival is not something we take for granted in this household). And a what a sweet, energetic and forgiving three year old she is. Granted, she rules the nursery with an iron fist, but some one's got to do it--even nursery kids have a pecking order you know.

Lindsey with her ACTUAL birthday birthday treat, (as opposed to her pseudo-birthday birthday cake, which was consumed the Saturday before the dawning of the big day.)

For days, of course, word of her upcoming pseudo-birthday birthday party event had been the primo topic of discussion between herself, Afton and I. Afton was MORE than thrilled to have another holiday to fawn over (though she did mention quite often that her upcoming birthday would be bigger, prettier and have a larger present yield. . . nonetheless, she was 100% in on the planning) and Lindsey was more than satisfied to be the center of it.

Too bad her mom decided to make the day of the party her LML (Last Minute Lucy) Achievement Day of the year. I don't even remember what I was doing the day before her party, or the day before that, but whatever it was, it was distracting enough that I convinced myself that I could handle all the party prep on the day OF the big day. Then the day came and we decided to make it an evening party and move it to the west side of the Valley to assure cousin attendance, and so I thought it might be fun to slip in a little home pedicure session for me and the girls--since we had ALL that time to wait till the evening party. After all, the party girl can't show up without a little glitz on her toes.

Needless to say, our prep time ran out and I was scrambling as usual. Fast forward a few hours and the fam and I show up at my sister, Emily's house with an unfrosted cake and a shopping list for Jared to run. The party was to start in a short 45 minutes from our arrival at Em's. So . . . naturally, 75 minutes or so later we arrive at the park to throw up the party decor and get ready to Wang Chung Tonight.
It wasn't until we were there that I realized I'd left behind/omitted from Jared's shopping list a few essential B-day party items: plates, forks, a rope to hang the pinata, wrapping paper, tape (oh no, the present was not prewrapped), and I also neglected to bring the one thing for which Lindsey had been most eager for her party: the candles! (and anything that could, in any way shape or form, cause an igniting spark for said missing candles).

So . . . . long story short, FUN party due to an incredibly forgiving 3 year old, a very relaxed group of party guests, (cousins, aunts and uncles, and a sweet grandma-in-law) and enough candy and finger-held cake for all, but decidedly not one of MY shining motherhood moments.

OK--I'll let you look at the pictures now.

Lindsey picked out one of Wal-Mart's most popular pinatas-- the rainbow burro (a.k.a. the two horned unicorn or the bicorn.)

The breaking of the pinata wasn't the usual jaunty swinging sport, but more of a grunting, stick slamming beating of the dead rat affair. (And since I had, in a moment of genius, bought suckers as a main portion of the contents, the candy didn't fare the slaying of the two horned unicorn very well either, but it was scooped hastily up in the red cups anyway and had mostly disappeared by the time we loaded up for home.)

Now, I DO realize a party with it's attendees dancing, laughing and even just hanging around holding "the red cups" might evoke a certain type of reputation. I assure you, however, this red cup party was completely on the up-and-up.

All said and done, Davey got stuck with the paper stuffing from the pinata (and a Dum-Dum he was quick enough to swipe.)
And Jake proudly mounted the bicorn head upon his own victorious head.

We can thank Tim for purchasing a gift which he was sure would produce the most trouble in the hands of our deviant geniuses Lindsey and Afton, and for drilling Afton with the fact that these WERE church toys. (and she did sneak them to Sacrament meeting by transferring them to a different bag the next day). Thanks Tim! Nothing like a well thought-out gift.

And a serious thanks to Em. She and I frosted this cake in about 30 minutes (it usually takes hours) and it turned out quite loverly.

Happy Birthday LuLu!---and to put you readers at ease, we did celebrate a la candles on her actual birthday!

Can You Crack the Code?

2009-05-18T18:33:00.000-07:00

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For the Record

2009-03-29T23:21:00.000-07:00

Earlier this week at dinner we had an important goal setting discussion.

Dallin: "Know what I want to be when I grow up? A guy that works at the Jelly Bean Factory."
We all mumbled some admiration for his foresight between bites of grilled cheese. Jelly beans everyday--how can you go wrong.
Afton: "I want to be a mom!" -- followed by a shy look up at me.
Again, "good choice," we all agreed. And then Lindsey was queried.
Lindsey: "I'm going to be a robot that goes on your floor." (it took 2 guesses before we correctly interpreted it.)
I followed her statement with the same nodding and validation I gave the other two, but Dallin and Aft made no effort to support such a decision.
Dallin: "HOW are you going to do that?"
Lindsey: "I'm gonna go beep, beep, beep, beep, beep (with fully synchronized robotic arm and head movements)."
I guess that shut Dallin right down, because he turned to his chicken noodle soup after that and let it go, until I reopened the discussion.
Me: "So, what do you think Davy should be."
Afton: "He should work at a store."
Dallin: "Which one. . . . like Costco. . . or Target?"
Afton: "Target"
Dallin: (excited now with a new idea) "No--he should work at the pizza part of Costco--you know, with Churros and pizza!"
"And lemonade!" I piped in.
Lindsey: "Day-fee should be a robot too!"

Anyway--so the good news is, it looks like we won't be having to pay for college for anyone (except Lindsey who may need to pursue some very advanced degrees in physics, biology and physiology, etc., and even then. . . . . she may be better off with some cardboard boxes and aluminum foil). And we may also be looking forward to some jelly bean and Costco Eatery perks in the not so distant future!!! Whoo Hoo! Who said parenthood doesn't have it's rewards?!?

Afton expanded on her plans for motherhood to me the day following the above conversation. She intends to have 24 children (or 34), the first one(s) will be twin girls named Rose and Flower. They will be followed by several other sets of twins, mostly girls, with some boys thrown in. I don't believe she is planning on having any single births, but when I introduced the idea of triplets to her, she decided she is definitely going to have some of those too. Oh, and, she is going to be a NICE mom. NOT like me.
Me: "So I'm not nice?"
Afton (and Dallin threw in his agreement): "No. I'm going to let them do whatever they want."
Me: "So what if they only want to eat candy and stay up all night and watch TV."
Afton: "Oh, they can only eat healthy stuff and can only watch one TV show and . . . (she went on about not too many video games, etc)"

So I ended that conversation feeling good and certain and smug in knowing that she would be told eventually by Rose and Flower that they were going to be NICE moms too someday.

The Ends of Eras

2009-03-12T12:44:00.001-07:00

If it weren't for that thrilling feeling in my ribcage as I watch my kids do something new for the first time, I would have given up long ago. Given up on teaching them anything whatsoever--not that it would stop any one's progress much. I guess I'm just too much a lover of status-quo or nostalgia or whatever it is, to let these kiddies grow up. But they do.
Davy, in particular, is KILLING me right now. He is so scrumptiously cute I could devour him, revealing myself as the true offspring-consuming arachnid that I am. Instead, I tide-over my appetite with hugs so tight he finally grunts and pushes away from my hunched shoulders--arched forward to incarcerate him with my elbows and forearms. Of course, I am an easily swayed prison master and set him free with only a love paddle on his diapered rump for bail. In return I receive a gapy-toothed grin, a few deep, open-mouthed, laughy breaths and some drunken' sailor toddling steps to clap at.
Just as I am typing this I look up to see Davy pull himself up at the red chair then venture out on his own, the right arm up and out for balance and the left punching the air above him at the beat of four or five punches per step. His face a mix of wonder and trepidation. What thing could I possibly do today to feel so surprised and delighted with myself?
Along with the walking, he is also forging ahead with it's rhyming twin "talking." Earlier during a quick trip to Nordstrom Rack to return a few items (which somehow ended up costing me $28), Davy squeaked out one of his E.T. style "hhhhiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeee"s and the lady at the register looked down in delight to find his big, little eyes staring up at her and his wrist still swivelling it's greeting. She may have thought it was cute, but I got the motherly thrill. Perhaps you've been in love with a child enough to have also felt the thrilling circus inside your stomach that I feel when watching my children's sweet, surprising and always unique progress. It's breathtaking. Other's may smile or take a peak at the leaps of progress, but don't usually care that much. They may be sucking on a lollipop, but they certainly aren't looking at a sunsetting Grand Canyon view like a mother does. I wonder if what I'm feeling while watching him feels as good as Davy does when he takes those steps.
But the REAL purpose of this post (or was at the outset) is to chronicle the sad ache that comes with the end of eras--like the crawling era. It just doesn't come back, ever again, once it is completely replaced with walking. Thus, the memories need to be recorded--memories like Davy getting taken on "walks" with Afton,

his dirty legs and hands and tops of feet,

crawling and aaaaaaaaaahhhhhing, and shaking his head at the same time,

crawling and pushing things on the floor at the same time (like my now scratched and scarred cell phone),

crawling then stopping to sit and rest and look around until he gets excited then hurriedly crawling again,

knowing that if you lie down on the floor you will soon be crawled upon and conquered by a heavily breathing and babbling soft body that will slobber and gnaw on you and ultimately produce laughter from your own tired body,

and the happy slapping sound of his hands on the hard floor signaling his coming. (Which sound I strategically use for the sweeping competition I have with Davy nearly every time the broom and dustpan come out of the closet. Their arrival in the kitchen arena somehow signals Davy that I will now be sweeping all the crumbs, toys, broken pencil lead, bits of paper, and dried carrot bits that he spends much of his awake time hunting for, into one consolidated and easily accessible pile in the middle of the kitchen floor. His arrival at that pile before I get it into the dustpan and garbage increases his treasure finding efficiency 400%. And he knows that I do everything I can to stop him. The competition has gotten pretty fierce lately. He's got skills and I am constantly having to up my game.)

Add these to a number of other heart alluring traits of a crawler and you've got one foot shuffling, reluctant mama. I will let this baby grow up, but I'm in no hurry to do it.

Lindsey is also turning into a "big girl" who "wears undies" and who loves to tell that to anyone who gives her a moment of their precious attention. We're as proud as punch of her, but she is even more proud to now be in the ranks of Afton, Dallin, Jakie, Violet, Roxy and her other undie wearing mentors. But more on her in the next post, when she takes on the "big three".

Davy giving his soft, tickley snuggles

What handsome bros.

Bad case of crawlers knee and foot

Afton using a yo yo for his walk

Davy gets absolutely giddy when out with his walker on the street while all the kids are riding their bikes and scooters around him. It's soo cool to be part of the neighborhood gang.

We Ain't Ones to Look A Gift Horse in the Mouth or Anything

2009-02-08T20:21:00.000-08:00

So, as our Christmas season ramped up to it's max Christmas-Morning-Celebrate-a-Thon, we wanted to do a little giving around the neighborhood. Nothing much, just the usual Mormon culture influenced plate-o-goodies: a few iced sugar cookies, a couple rice crispy treats, some no fail ginger snaps, a scoop of bright colored Christmas candies and two to three cookie airplane treats that needed to be explained upon delivery because they could have easily been mistaken for a number of other things--namely a cigar with a peice of gum strapped to it.

Due to the fact that it is nigh unto impossible for a mother of 3 INTENSLY curious and helpful children--and a very grabby baby--to put together a plate of cookies that have not: been licked, been sneezed on, or been touched by dirty hands that were just licked or sneezed on; and that does not contain: sand, half of a container of sprinkles, or the contents of someones pocket, we kept the list down to a handful of neighbors so mom could stay vigilant over the goodies until they were safe in the neighbors home for consumption/discard as they so chose (it's totally the thought that counts).

Well, delivery proved to be fun for all of us and the neighbors appeared grateful for our humble offering. But little did we know how grateful and generous one cute little family from across the cul-de-sac really was. Upon returning home from our post-Christmas-wedding-snow-extravaganza a week into January the mother and daughter of the family slipped by with a little card. We invited them in and chatted for a while and they explained that they had tried to bring this by before but we were gone. We, of course, thanked them and opened the card later to find this:

Super nice right? Super, super nice and thoughtful, but the front of the card looked like this:

As you may have guessed by the title of this blog, they made a little mistake on our last name. Regift? We wouldn't mind, but we prefer to chalk it up to Jared's name being mistaken for Jerry, then being mistaken for his last name. It's happened before (to someone probably). We didn't let it bother us much last week as we went for the appetizer combo, lasagna plate, seafood pasta, and one kiddie meal to share between the 4 kids (it's not our fault the kids refuse to eat at restaurants). We would, however, enjoy some advice on how to break the name mistake to the neighbors sweetly so we can stay on their Christmas list for next year. Please comment with some great ideas for us!

You May Have Doubted

2009-02-05T21:12:00.001-08:00

but I've gone and done it. The Christmas pics I pinky promised I would post. Now . . . for your viewing pleasure, I present: our family!
This is what Christmas at the Parkers------and a week with the Ercanbracks for my bro. Creighton's wedding----looks like.
(My thanks goes out to Tim and Mary who posted pics on Facebook so I could swipe a few!)

A very dark shot of our tree which was used as a hiding place, dancing partner, and a weapon (tree lights are obviously meant to be mini light-sabers), and looked much better in the dark from about Dec. 2nd on.

Showin some Andrus charm!

Afton prayed for weeks about Christmas. "Thank you that Santa is coming to town." and then afterward "thank you that we got TONZ a presents."--I love this age at Christmas.

The elephant was cast as the donkey and really made the whole thing come to life.

Davie didn't enjoy his role as the little lamb this year, as it was past his bedtime, and the cotton ball taped to his bottom didn't last long either.

I don't know how we are going to top the costumes next year. This year set a really high standard.

I have to say I was very impressed with their reverence for the nativity, and it was neat to feel of the Spirit on Christmas Eve.

Santa got a tempting spread this year! Can you tell which ones Lindsey decorated (licked), can you tell which one the Big J submitted (sprinkles).

This year Jared, er, Santa's other little helper, taught me the strategy of proper present placement throughout the room, to maximize the feeling of gift abundance on Christmas morning.

First bikes/plastic trikes that ARE called BIKES to almost 3 yr olds.

After a full day of reveling in new toys Aftie fell asleep like this in her bed.
Thank you Santie Claus, thank you--after another year of being told during every toy request at Target, "Maybe you could ask for that for Christmas," it didn't take much to help these kids feel like the luckiest kids on the block. As for me, my favorite presents were also the kid's new toys. Now (and for the next 2 months) there are fewer requests to watch TV, and more self-entertained kiddos. There is more outside play, vitamin D straight from the sun, and tired kids at the end of the day. And lest we remember just the presents this year, let's remember that our little brood, especially Deej and Afton, are understanding more and more of the meaning of the Savior's birth and how that night so long ago affects us all today.---

Then, at 2 am on the day after Christmas we woke up super early so I could get lost on the way to Utah (adding another 100 miles) for a week with my family and a beautiful wedding. Welcome to the crazy Ercanbrack way of life Michelle.

Cousin Violet let us share her celebration of 3 years with her.

There were several Dance-a-thons.

Just squeezing in a little work between the ceremony and pictures.

A romping gala with some of the High School buddies.

Bowling down at the B Y.

Bowling for burgers! I actually won (with the help of the bumpers), it was a first for me.

Genghis Khan's newest recruits. Yeah, they know how to handle a 3 ft ice cycle.

Shopping on a Budget

2009-02-01T23:00:00.000-08:00

I just spent the last hour in a very deep conversation with my nearest and dearest. Nothing but his words, needs and interests have been at the foremost of my mind---and which background to choose for my blog. So I tried on 20 or so backgrounds (with my hands and eyes only, again, my mind was totally engaged in our conversation) and ended up with this wild piece. Who knows if it will stay for long, but it was sure fun shopping.

Dallin's Real and Actual Birthday

2009-01-28T23:09:00.000-08:00

was on a Sunday. So the wild raging Saturday party had simmered down by then, but the family all pitched in to make the day special for him, (except for Davey who still assumes all clapping and smiling is dedicated just to him). Dallin, thus far, has been a fan of his close-to-Christmas birthday. Here he is with his birthday R/C car that drives up the walls and ceiling:

Just shortly before turning six Dallin reached the real rite of passage for elementary school kiddom--the losing of the first tooth. He is happy enough, and loving the Tooth Fairy kick-backs, but I'm not so sure I'm ready to welcome in the awkward large-tooth, small mouth, pre-braces days of elementary kids. It was a bit sudden for me, and I feel a bit half-hearted to see the cute little teeth go--or to see my cute little boy go.

Deej is Six! (as of Dec 21, 2008) hehe, late post.

2009-01-28T21:00:00.000-08:00

How awesome is turning 6? So awesome that you get a one-of-a-kind Death Star birthday cake designed solely by your mom's own creative juices (and the sports ball Wilton cake pan set). So awesome that you get to have the sweetest cousins party known to Gilbert, all-inclusive with a stack o' Hot-N-Readys (sparing no expense for young taste buds), a big jar of Tostito's Salsa con Queso, a hastily glue-gunned graham cracker house for each guest, and a table brimming with sugary cracker house decor. So awesome that the place was decorated with the Star Wars Clone Wars party set and the shining (if not overly-glazed) eyes of children who had eaten a non-stop stream of anti-nutritious substances since walking in the door. ** Special thanks to Dylan Rich who provided each child with a pixie stick that was 2 1/2 ft long and 3/4 inch in diameter for our appetizers. Ya gotta buy somthin at the school store, why not 18 mega-sized pixies to start off your Christmas sugar blitz.** As you may have guessed--this party rocked! Only the best for our Dallin J. He IS sooo cool. {AND he got student of the month for being caring and got to eat lunch on the stage with the principle. Caring and Cool--quite the package.}

The Death Star kind of collapsed, but that was all well received, since it did that on the movie too.

In Another's Shoes

2009-01-09T22:19:00.000-08:00

I have become abysmally negligent of this blog. Whenever my thoughts flitted over it's existence during the last month, I simply excused my care with the mantra "it's the holidays!" I intend to do some storytelling and picture posting from our holidays, which I will do in the very near future. But I made it a goal to post tonight, so post I will--until Jared gets back from the Redbox.
Lindsey has instigated a new game in our family. We have played it two or three times now in as many days. It begins by Lindsey telling me that I am not Mom, but that SHE is Mom. Thus, my "gentle words of guidance" to pick up the toys, cannot be adhered to at this time. The question then arises: "then who am I?" Well, I'm told, I am Lindsey, and Afton is Dallin, and Dallin is Dad and Dad is Davey, and Davey is Afton.
The game changes everyone and everything around here. Dallin (Afton) gets to ask Mom (Lindsey) if she can have more juice before dinner, and Lindsey (me) has to ask Mom (Lindsey) if she can "help" cook the beef.
The game lingered on for over an hour last night. And what was the result? Davey working until late and missing dinner. Afton making a mess of her vegetables all over her face and the kitchen floor. Dad complaining that he had to do homework (coloring the matching pictures can be rough at times). Lindsey giving a bath to Mom and Dallin while Afton stood gripping the edge of the tub, bobbing her head up and down until it was her turn. And Davey returning home from work to be corrected numerous times on what names to call whom, until just after he had them secured--at which point the game was abruptly declared adjourned until Lindsey's whim reopens the chaos next time.
Now, if that doesn't make your head spin, go read The Fox in Socks for YOUR bedtime story five times fast.

GGGGGGGGRRRRRrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr . . . .

2008-12-04T23:12:00.001-08:00

Please click on photo for additional detail

Now you can create a Wolverine School Photo for your own family member!

Step 1:

Mother (or other parental/guardian figure) applies gel liberally to scalp, spiking hair on morning of school picture day in order to camouflage the much-needed-hair-cut status of hair.

Step 2:

Child decides while at school not to have spiky hair and decides to flatten middle-front section using a drinking fountain water/spit combination product.

Now sit down in front of the photographer's blue and gray shaded background, give a little close-lipped smile and. . . . Viola! Your own Wolverine School Photo to enjoy for years to come!

Style modeled by Dallin Jared Parker (a mini-Hugh Jackman in the making, and just as good looking).

Taking One For The Team

2008-11-19T21:10:00.000-08:00

Because I feel it is in all of our best interest that I contribute toward this:

scrumptiously squishy goodness, I feel it my responsibility as a nursing mother to assist my children in their Halloween candy consumption, and consumption of all up coming holiday treats. It is a sacrifice I had not foreseen before becoming a mother, but one that I have buckled down and accepted as part of the work load that honorable motherhood requires.

Note: due to my diligent sacrifice, 7 mo. old Davy is now weighing more than Dallin, Afton , and Lindsey weighed at 1 year. I'd estimate that currently there is a good inch of soft babiness that squishes between each of your fingers when holding the child.

Halloween Pics

2008-11-03T21:54:00.001-08:00

We met up at Em's for some homemade pizza and increasingly loud pre-trick-or-treating hype.

Back, L to R: Storm Trooper: Dylan Rich, Ghost: Brad Andrus, Strom Trooper: Nick Andrus

Front L to R: Batman: Jake Rich, Pirate Girl: Lindsey Parker, Cowboy: Conner Andrus, Buzz Lightyear: Dallin Parker, Birthday Cake: Afton Parker, Bumblebee: Spencer Andrus

Bottom: Dragon: David Parker

Just hatched from the dragon egg.

Aunt Em tames the dragon.

Birthday Cake costume (a little worn and torn by Halloween after a few parties), made of an upside-down canvas laundry bag and hat of paper plates with pipe cleaner candles.

Halloween is so much fun with cousins!

Quote of the night: "I'm not gonna say 'trick or treat' I'm gonna say 'trick or toilet!'" by Jacob Rich. And I can assure you, he stuck to that objective, and still received large amounts of candy!

Happy Election Day!

2008-11-03T21:12:00.000-08:00

We had a debate at the dinner table tonight. Dallin told us he was voting for Obama (after a few questions on which one was which.) I asked why and his response was that McCain was a little fat.(?????????????)
Jared responded by referencing Arnold Schwarzenegger's remarks at a rally on Halloween for McCain:

"Every year, the first week in March, I come to Columbus Ohio and my friend Jim Norro and I we organize the Arnold’s Classic which is the greatest body building expo in the world. Now, of course, the Arnold’s Classic is all about building up the bodies and pumping up. That’s why, the next Arnold’s Classic, I want to invite Senator Obama, because he needs to do something . . . he needs to do something about those skinny legs. We’re gonna make him do some squats. And then we’re gonna go and give him some bicep curls to beef up those scrawny little arms. But we, if only we could do something about putting some meat on his ideas.”

Having skinny legs, however, didn't persuade Dallin against Obama, but when I mentioned that McCain was from here in Arizona, he became a hard, fast McCain fan. We'll see what happens tomorrow when Obama is likely to be victorious. We may see Dallin quickly jumping the McCain ship. He has remained loyal, though, for David, as he told us the other night over a chicken enchilada dinner. I had just explained to Afton that we were not eating tacos or burritos, but enchiladas. Then Dallin piped up: "Too bad David lost."
"What?"
"You know, David Enchilada on American Idol."

At least Dallin will have a memorial ring from this years election. He was happy to have found this among his Halloween loot on Friday night and proudly showed me:
"Hey! I got a ring with the two guys that want to be president!"

The Darndest Things

2008-10-31T00:47:00.001-07:00

Recent conversations and daily life have produced the following remarks:

Afton in prayers:

"And thank you that is Halloween. And thank you for Halloween decorations. And thanks for Christmas decorations. Becuase some people have both Halloween and Christmas decorations. . ."
(the eager department store marketing of Christmas items during the Halloween season have Afton a little confused, but very excited)
***********************************************************
Dallin: Mom, you like David the best.
Me: Why do you say that?
Dallin: Because he's the cutest
Me: Oh my little cutesy wootsey tootsey kiddie, blah blah blah (pinching Dallin's cheecks and giving little hugs.)
Dallin: (pushing me away). I'm GLAD Davie is the cutest.
****************************************************************
Afton: Mom, who was the cutest at the Halloween Party? . . . . ME!
(a welcome comment after Em and I rushed to put together her requested birthday cake costume in the last hour and first half hour of the ward Halloween Party (can't be sooner than 45 min late!))
Afton: Someone thought I was a cupcake!!!!! (in disbelief.--it is important to get costume recognition details right for 4 yr olds.)
*****************************************************************
Dallin: I love kindergarten. I'm so lucky I'm in kindergarten. Afton is gonna be the next lucky one to go to kindergarten.
*****************************************************************
Dallin: Mom, I like Clarissa. She is the new girl. She looks like Sleeping Beauty except for the hair and I don't know what color her eyes are, but they might be blue. (Are there any other ways to look like Sleeping Beauty for a 5 yr old girl?)
**********************************************************************
Me: Lindsey, I love you.
Lindsey: (nodding and looking up at me) Heavenly Father luff me. Uh huh.
********************************************************************
Dallin: Lindsey, you were the winner too, because you were on the team with Afton and I and we beat Mom and David. (to Lindsey after she fell down on the walk/race home from school and ended up being pushed in the stroller with the losing team).

Some Serious Discipline

2008-10-31T00:15:00.000-07:00

We were really excited to move to this house. Then we found out it came fully equipped with a 10 foot time-out spot. This house was made for us.

A Million and One Pictures of the Parker Kids

2008-10-15T21:27:00.000-07:00

Good buddies are invaluable. Jordan Daines took these pics of my kiddies (and me, at my protest, just not the photogenic type). We miss our little South Pas now that we are here in Gilbert, AZ, but can I just say Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh to a back yard, and a garage with MY OWN washer and dryer to revel in, and a culdesac where the kids play outside almost all day long, and cheap rent, and enough rooms that David doesn't have to nap in Jared's office where he wakes up every 15 min. You can't beat the weather in southern California, but again . . . aaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

Anyway, here are the pics, by Jordan Daines, and for all my friends back in S.P., I would totally hire her, (hope you wanted a little advertising Jordan). It is HARD work to get any of my kids to cooperate in any manner whatsoever, and she managed to pull it off with all four.

Sorry, I like so many I couldn't decide which to post an posted a bunch of them.

Dallin, D.J., Deej, Deejamus Prime:

--Dallin makes me want to laugh. He has a contageous laugh, and is ideal to watch a good comedy with because his laugh makes it much funnier.

Afton, Aftie Tafties, Taffy:

--Afton makes me wonder. There are no boundaries for her imagination, and it's awesome to ask and find out where she is thinking at any random moment.

Lindsey, Lindsey Lu, Lu Lu, Lu Lu La:

--Lindsey makes me feel loved. I have to ask before I can kiss her. She usually grants my request, but she likes to specify where the kiss will occur. Sometimes on her nose, sometimes on her cheek, her arm, her knee, or wherever needs a kiss.

David, Davie, Davers, Schootch:

--David makes me feel popular. I've never had so many people, young and elderly, surrounding me as I did at church the other day, all of them gooing and gaaing at the little flirt.

The REAL Windsor SLC house.

2008-10-06T00:38:00.000-07:00

Sorry for tricking so many of you with my last Windsor post. Here are the post recent pics of the house, just about to be posted on the MLS. We are proud of it, but Jared is as tired of it as I used to get of my school research papers just before turning them in. He just wants to be done with it. There is still some landscaping to be done, which we have complete assurance will be done this week??????
If anyone knows someone who wants a really cute little house in a darling neighborhood in SLC, and who is voting for Obama (or someone who loves to debate people who are voting for Obama, since most of the neighbors are sporting Obama signs in their yards) then this is absolutely the house for them.

Create

2008-09-29T01:45:00.000-07:00

"...take the normal opportunities of your daily life and create something of beauty and helpfulness. You will improve not only the world around you, but also the world within you."

OK. How awesome was that RS General Conference talk by Elder Uchtdorf? You may feel the same, but I am sure it was written expressly for me. I'm such an apologist.

Afton, the Princess Scarescrow

2008-09-28T22:42:00.000-07:00

Aftie has been creating again. She couldn't bare to part with her collection of sticks a few Fridays ago at the park. Initially, I cautioned her after noticing a stick twirling from her outstretched arm with complete disregard for the little heads in close proximity.
"Aft, you need to play with the stick in a place where there are no kids, or I'll have to take the stick away."
She semi-heard me, choosing not to look at my "warning face," but to stare at the way she caused the irregular form of her stick to twist in the air by rolling it in her fingers. The top of the crooked branch moved slowly as it rolled to the top of it's ellipse, then quickly back around to it's starting point.
Once a safe distance was secured between her and the other playmates, I took a moment to prepare myself for the upcoming battle of “stick separation anxiety” that occurs when we enter the car after a park trip, then quickly resumed chatting with the other moms. Mom Chatting is a past time I rather enjoy, and with the ideal weather and shady conditions, park time stretched into the hours. By the time I finally rounded up the posse for our nap-inducing drive home Afton’s stick collection had increased by 500%.
Before Afton climbed in the car I broke the news. “Afton, we are going to have to leave those sticks here so someone else can have a turn with them.”
“But mom, they are for my scarescrow.”
Afton had been inspired earlier that day by a scarecrow face decoration Dallin’s kindergarten teacher had planted in the dirt outside his classroom. I was going to insist again that the sticks be left behind, but grew soft to her plans (which I figured would be forgotten by the time we got home like so many 4 year old ideas are.)
But she stayed awake, with sticks in palm and idea fresh in her mind until, 30 minutes later, I dug some rubber bands out of a drawer and sat down to ease her frustration at not being able to tie the sticks together properly with a small piece of blue curling ribbon. Despite myself, I had been sucked in by her enthusiasm and began to enjoy my part in the project.
She requested some orange paper to make the face and about 20 pieces of paper later, settled on the yellow face with the cute hair. I then cut and taped it into place while she picked out the wardrobe--shorts and shirt underneath, with a favorite dress-up gown on top. To avoid the overly-limp look, we then stuffed her with wadded papers torn from one of those huge open-enrollment insurance books that come in the mail.
By then I had adopted into my own vocabulary her mispronounced “scarescrow” title and the new friend officially became “Princess Afton Scarescrow.”

Ribbon hair attached so Princess Afton can wear barettes.
Cleaning up the mess is what I felt I should have been doing rather than securing sticks in the form of a scarescrow. But then, what would I be remembering today?

Princess Afton lived a life of just beyond 1 week. She was danced with, conversed with, taken on car rides, and even shared a sleeping spot next to her creater and friend. Her death was caused by a slow leaking of her stuffed paper innards all over the house and several broken appendages. She was loved and will be remembered for her great ability to listen.

Flashback to Summer

2008-09-17T23:23:00.000-07:00

Sooooo........I kind of missed a whole summer of blogging. We were in Utah and I took a vacation from a lot of things besides feeding and bathing my kids. My Mama and Pops were extraordinarily patient with our extended, extended stay of 2 months! (Davie spent half of his 4 month life there). Besides the King Reunion we spent the time frolicking in Utah while Jared took on a house-flipping in SLC. Here are some pics (courtesy of Grandma Barbara Parker), I'll let them do the talking.

Jared's baby. 1910 Windsor, SLC. In the 9th and 9th neighborhood--very adorable. This is the before pic. Cute little brick house, right? What looks like brick is actually an asphalt tile that is made to APPEAR like brick. Yes, those are ragged screens hanging off the front door and windows.

Construction phase
What became of the kitchen after Jared let the demolition boys loose in there.
The back bedroom, stripped. Even the boards under had to be replaced (there were weeds growing into the room when we first went in.)

The garbage pile in back grew and grew until it was big enough to eat the house, and then Jared found a group of huge Tongan guys in Smith's Grocery to come haul it away and stave off the tidal wave.

TA-DA!!!!!! The finished product!!!!!!

Just kidding. That is actually a Parade of Homes house we visited with Jared's parents. We don't have a "finished product" yet, but it is close. Here are a few pictures from this crazy Parade of Homes house.
The basement actually opened up to ANOTHER lower level made up of a PIRATE BOAT, and a CAVE with a slide leading to a HOT TUB in the lower cave.

Hot tub in bottom of cave with a flat screen for your entertainment. There is a door from the cave that opens up to a huge basket/wally/racket ball court. Crazy!

This is the little built-in playhouse/village in the house.

OK--this really is Jared's house, still unpainted exterior, but great improvements already. The new windows make a HUGE difference. Pretty much everything about the house is new. Electric, plumbing, new HVAC, even new interior framing.

New custom alder cabinets. Jared hired out the tile work to save his knees. And most of the other work too, actually.

David Richard Parker was (finally) blessed. He was almost 4 months old. It was sweet (even though he started spitting up during the blessing).

He barely fit into this blessing outfit from when my brother Lukas was a baby.

We didn't quite trust LuLu to hold Davie.
Aftie and her Grandma Parker (thanks for the pictures, Barb!)

There is the funnest water feature at Liberty Park in SLC. It is a miniature version of the Salt Lake and the rivers that feed into it, surrounded by little canyons.
Afton got into a tangle with her chewing gum.
David is a social baby. He loves people and loves to play the crowd. He's here with the big cousins Dylan, Brad and Nick.
More house reformation pictures to come!

Goodbye Dubai, Goodbye

2008-09-14T23:39:00.000-07:00

We've spent the last several months mulling (and joking) about moving to Dubai (United Arab Emirates). Why not? THEY've got the novelty of the indoor ski dome! THEY've got more cranes in the one city than the rest of the world put together (Jared measures the value of a place by the number of cranes it contains). They are currently building a resort FIVE, count em 5, times bigger than Disney World. AND they've got a bunch of man-made islands off their coast shaped like the globe. Need I continue?

Sure, so a few of the 911 bombers were from there, but seriously, it's SO SAFE (for the middle east) and just a hop skip and a jump to Europe for our kids soccer tourneys and what not. Right? So why not? WHY not indeed? (Then there's the Russia option, but I won't get into that).

Well, as it turns out we are moving to the desert, but not to that one. We will be stocking up on Clinical Strength deodorant and Neutrogena hand cream instead for our move to the loverly desert of Arizona. I'm having a bit of a hard time saying goodbye to the beautiful, green, national arbor city of the year, national no-cuss day, filming mecca of South Pasadena! This town is so darn cute. If I can swipe the camera back from the Big J, I'll take some pics of this place to aid my memory as we say adios.

But Arizona, Here we Come! And just in time to buy a house at rock bottom prices to say the least (fingers crossed), and have some serious fun with my big sisters Mary and Em.

Lindsey LuLu

2008-08-31T22:56:00.000-07:00

Lindsey's nickname just emerged on it's own, like so many nicknames do. Lindsey Lu is a natural enough variation, but the "Lu" had to be doubled, and the Lindsey dropped, and pretty soon she had the same name as the girlfriend of that nerdy guy on "Gilmore Girls."
The other day she raged at me "LEAVE ME ALONE," while in a fit of frustrated, 2 year old independence.
"Lindsey, that is not a nice thing to say." I replied.
So she looks at me, mulling over what I said, then opens her mouth, "please leave me alone mama."
We love our Lu. Two quick funny stories about LuLu:
A few months ago the Elders dropped by in the middle of the day. We chatted at the front door since Jared wasn't home. I offered them glasses of water, which they happily received due to the oppressive heat of the day. Then, before they left, I decided I could receive additional blessings by offering the missionaries a snack, so I left them to sip at their drinks while I went to dig through my makeshift pantry down the hall (which is literally 7 inches wide and 2 ft deep, a real cave, I could probably lose a jar of Costco pickles in that thing). And while I am one head and two elbows deep into the pantry digging up any snack with individual wrapping that I could find, this is what I hear:
Lindsey: "Hi!"
Elders: Some greeting I can't recall, and then, "do you want to take this glass for me?"
Lindsey: (all excited to help) "Yeah!"
Then, her little feet pattering into the kitchen and . . .
CRASH!
She totally threw the glass into the sink and obliterated it.
She then returns to the missionaries all happy to have helped out and I start guffawing in the pantry as I hear the missionaries' stuttered questioning of Lindsey.
When I returned to the front door with my kill from the hunt (some granola bars), the one Elder is staring at me with a white, pasty, guilt face, just knowing that he should never have trusted the 2 year old with a glass. The look on his face was so funny that it easily repaid for my grunt work cleaning up the sink.
I quickly assured him everything was fine when he questioned and sent them on their way with the bars, but his face never regained it's color. As far as Lindsey knew, she was the cutest little missionary helper they'd seen all day.

The other thing I wanted to remember was how she has been finding bugs lately. I love when it happens--it is one of my favorite shows. Several times she has come to me, SO excited.
"Look mom, my friend! Look mom, my friend! Look mom, my friend! Look mom, my friend! Look mom, my friend!" (Her little voice intonation full of pride in her love for the creature.)
She continues until I stop and kneel down to see what she has most recently befriended. It has always been a bug that is either crawled up into a ball pretending to be dead, or is dead. Because once Lindsey's friend starts to move, (or even if her hand moves and the dead bug flips over revealing more of it's buggy legs or wings) the friend is tossed into the air and the screaming starts. And it is shrill.
I'd hate to know how she treats her enemies.

Cones Wanted

2008-08-26T21:50:00.000-07:00

Does anyone know where I can purchase those cones that businesses use when they've just mopped the floor? "Cuidado," or some-such Spanish vocab, is printed on them, along with "Caution, Wet Floor."
Our Davie has a relentless spit-up problem, and on numerous occasions, has left some serious slipping hazards in public places. I DO let a lot of things slide, but I couldn't forgive myself if someone, especially the elderly, hit the wet slippery spot and wet flying, only to land in Davie's wet stomach contents. And although there is nothing more graceful than a mother with full-on baby Bjorn--the 4 month-old's head bobbling, doing some strange yoga position in the middle of Mervyns in order to wipe the floor with a diaper wipe that she just yanked out of the bottom of her bag (causing 3 other items from her bag to fall on the floor), I don't tend to do yoga well. I, truthfully, don't even know any real poses. And I'm pretty sure what I have done would not qualify. So I really need those cones, some telescoping ones in a diaper bag size, if possible . . . or maybe some inflatable ones would do?
I can see myself now, the mother machine that I am, pushing a stroller with a stack of possible clothing purchases on the top of the stroller sunshade, a bag of clothing returns in the bottom of the stroller, the two and four year old in the stroller eating crackers while leaving a Hansel and Gretel trail in the mall, the five year old trailing miserably while holding on to the stroller's emergency brake cord, and Davie alternately cooing at passersby and chewing on the edge of the Bjorn. Complete harmony--and then the upset occurs. Davie spits, and I, without losing a beat, simply yank out my portable cones (probably still spilling bag contents on the floor), flick to expand, and secure the area, all while circling the problem area (because if the stroller stops that is every one's cue to ask if we can buy some absolutely essential object), and I'm back on my trail without any bending, twisting, or overextending whatsoever.
So, please, comment if you know, or know of a good deal on some paper snow cone cups. Aftie has been pining to use Jared's yellow highlighter, and she should learn to write "cuidado" anyway, so we could pay her a nickle per cup colored and put her to work producing those cones. On second thought, does anyone know someone who would like to buy some caution cones? I may have a little entrepreneur lurking in me yet.

Lunch With Dallin and Aftie

2008-08-03T23:57:00.000-07:00

This is a quick video that Jared took of lunch one day. It has had great response from some viewers (Brad, Nick, and Dylan), so I thought I would post it for your viewing pleasure. The video explains all . . .

I'm sure our kids' annoyance with each other's eating habits is an anomaly none of you have experienced. Have you ever tried the ol' knock-on-the-table-bottom-and-see-if-someone-runs-to-answer-the-door trick that Afton pulled? It's a regular one at our house. Feel free to share in comments.

Engineered Camping Fun

2008-08-03T22:17:00.000-07:00

We camped this year in true style. Granted, there were porta potties hauled in by a local potty pusher, but Cherry Creek, itself, consists of pure wilderness, a horse trailer full of food, about 50 decks of cards, swimming at the sulpher-smelling hot springs, a couple sets of horseshoe pegs and a horseshoe tournament trophy, stacks of sourdough pancakes, good campfire stories, and a bunch of smoky smelling Kings and Sorensons. It's awesome.

Everyone knows that wilderness, in and of itself, is loads of fun for the 0-12 age set. But the Idaho mountains mixed with Jared Parker becomes even more fun for kiddies. (As Jared's mother Barb describes, Jared could create fun times in a room full of crap.) This year at Cherry Creek Jared made a swing for the kids.

After scanning the area for the best natural swing frame, Jared donned his zippered hoodie, (with hood pulled and tied so tightly it revealed only his eyes and nose from it's gathered edge), then took on two tall pine trees in order to tie a rope about 25 feet high, from one tree to the other. He descended victoriously, despite numerous encounters with large deposits of pine sap. From that rope he hung the second rope with which he strung up the young'ns with a climbing harness and a life jacket and sent them sailing as easily as a spider dangling from a web in the wind. Just about every kid in camp gave it a go.

It was not your average tree swing, and I must admit that I, as a parent, was not content just watching and cheering on their fun and wonder at the sensation of flying. I was sorely jealous. Next time I am so insisting on the adult version. It's my turn to be Tinkerbell, Aft.

Luckily, I talked the Big J (Jared) into making a movie out of some of our video and pics from the swing. Unluckily, the video doesn't show how high the kids actually got over the course of the two days. Afton eventually got all the way up to 25 feet when Jared had her going at full speed, but you'll get an idea.

And, for anyone who knows Lindsey very well, it will come to no surprise to know that she, hands-down, won the dirtiest kid in camp award this year. I would occasionally chase her down with a wipe, but her then-cleanish cheeks wouldn't even last 5 minutes.

Thanks to Mom's cousin, Alice for bringing horses, and to Mom for riding with the kids.

David took 3rd place in Spencer Andrus's favorite people in camp. 1st was Jenna (his 10 yr old girlfriend) and 2nd was Grandpa King (it's fun to watch someone put on a prosthetic leg.)

Spencer wanted David to sleep by him in his tent, but Davie had to stay with us. Davie seemed OK with it.

This is what Cherry Creek can do to your kids too (let me know if anyone wants to come next year).

Who could possibly be behind these dirt rimmed fingernails?The Dirtiest Kid in Camp! who is actually showing a lot of skin for her average camp day.

More amateur photos (and photo commentary) than any of you asked for.

2008-07-06T22:37:00.000-07:00

Believe it or not, we DO do fun things together as a family and with friends. I adore getting out of the house and can get cabin-fever in two days flat. But I lack some serious photo-documentation skills. Those who know me well know that my eyes are constantly skittering around me counting heads, and my hands are endlessly bouncing babies, holding art projects, wiping mouths, toting bounteous supplies of snacks and diapers, and reaching to restrain run-away toddlers. It's enough to make a recovering drug addict nervous. So when DO I find time to grab a camera? I wish I had one permanently stapled to my forehead. As many of you know, life right now, besides being a brutal boot camp of young motherhood, is also very entertaining. Photos that I do manage to take, even a week ago, surprise me with memories that slip out of my mind as quickly as the days come roaring past. Most of these photos were taken at home (which is where I do end up taking pictures if I can get a camera before the kids move on to some other less-picture-worthy activity).

For lack of a better hat? The kids walked out modeling underwear.

Where did the ice cream go?

Down to the elbows and belly button it streams, in thick chocolate rivulets of stickiness.

Does Davie have a chance with two older sisters who think of him as the newest doll to dress up? Even in his sleep, they apparently have him tied in to prevent escape.
This boy seriously can seriously work that lower lip.
This being a fourth baby, I find myself almost mourning his growth. I can't get enough of the froggy legged naps on the couch and the baby yawns where his rubber-band wrists shake the small fists and his arms reach to their fullest--just above the length of his head.

St. Patty's Day -- Afton's timeout was induced by her hitting of Lindsey. But, seeing that Lindsey was thrilled to join the party, I couldn't stop her from obeying Afton's whispered summons. So Afton served her time with the victim. But who's keeping track of who's really the victim here?

Again--just can't get enough of these heavy cheeks and a tummy, maxing out onsie elasticity, as it rises and falls with his sleepy breathing.

A spontaneous-Saturday-morning-toilet-paper-castle-build. Followed by, nothing else but a spontaneous-Saturday-morning-toilet-paper-castle-toppling, and then lying down to rest in the rubble.

With a year-long Disneyland pass we had some good times, and to prove our parental dedication until I can dig up some better photographic evidence, these photos of a Disneyland trip with 2 week old David will have to suffice. It was a quick trip in between Jared's finals and his HUGE final project, but our passes were expiring, so we had to make a dash to Disney. Can you find the baby in the picture above?

In an unprecedented and daring request, Dallin begged to go on the are-you-out-of-your-mind-it's-only-65-degrees-river-ride, and Dad couldn't go, for some reason I forget, so I went with him and figured we'd stay dry, (we aren't too heavy), and we did stay dry, until just reaching the final bridge where Jared stood holding the camera. And he laughed while taking pictures and listening to the bridge audience gasp at the most entertaining raft soaking they'd seen in a while.

That's Dallin and I completely bent over with the water right behind us. We walked around in soggy jeans for the rest of the night. But, for our last night at Disney, we had to go out with a bang, right?

Enjoy the Mickey sucker kids, they're your last for a while.

Totally Famous

2008-06-22T23:20:00.000-07:00

We live close to Hollywood. Right here in film land, where we often see T.V. shows and movies being filmed in our own town and street. When we moved here a year ago from up north I instantly recognized the pervasiveness of the entertainment industry. Walking into a local movie rental place, I couldn't even find Dirty Rotten Scoundrels. Everything was organized by directors and actors and screen writers and by the caterers who fed those actors. It was all way out of my movie knowledge league. An attack of Junior High Inferiority hit me and I felt asking for the "comedy section" there would be akin to ordering Mac'n'Cheese at the Essex House, so I glanced around and mirrored the actions of those around me, deliberately picking up DVD cases and nodding with furrowed brows, then shuffling to another shelf to repeat, until I made it to the front and asked quietly for my movie choice, waiting for a smug rebuke. Turns out, Dirty Rotten Scoundrels isn't so passe.

Anyway, my point is, we're kinda out of it. But in another way, we are soooo in. In a place where so many are doing EVERYTHING they can to turn heads, we evoke head pivots constantly. If you ever crave attention and desire fish bowl living, move to LA and have 4 kids, ages 5 and under. We get stared at relentlessly. Granted, most of those stares are not the result of Pitt-Jolie type adoration. But we are, apparently, entertaining.

"Are all of those YOURS?"

Maybe it's just entertaining to watch me try and handle them all at the Target checkout, with a crying baby in one arm, and a 3 and 5 year old picking up each candy from the smartly marketed candy display and asking repeatedly if we can buy, while I pull out purchase items tucked under the sides of the baby's car seat in the cart (I was certain he would sleep the whole time). Meanwhile, I am interrupted every ten seconds to save my envious 2 year old who is watching the older kids at the candy and asking to get down while precariously climbing out of her shopping cart throne. (A quick aside--shopping cart "seat belts" are a joke. They've never held one of my kids in. I could spend some serious money shopping at any store featuring carts with at least 3 seats, each with 5-point harness straps and a helmet. Oh, and little DVD players.) I say in complete seriousness that I RARELY make it through a shopping trip without inquiries on the ages of the kids, and even their names. After a really good show, one wants to see the credits.

Maybe we SHOULD get paid for all the entertainment we are providing. A couple of weeks ago I got an offer from a talent seeker/manager lady in line behind me at Old Navy. She handed me her card and told me the kids should do commercials. "If you can handle shopping with all 4 of them, you would make a great stage mom," she said.

I laughed and told her that I had them on a 5 to 10 minute bribing schedule. They would receive a candy at each increment if they hadn't run away or hid in any clothing racks. I waited for her look of surprise and disapproval. But she just blinked and again urged me to have them audition. I guess my bribing techniques fit right in with the "stage parent" mentality. We'll do whatever it takes to get them to perform.

In the end, I deliberately let Lindsey play with the talent scout's business card, resulting in it's certain destruction. Not only did commercial auditions with 4 kids sound like complete torture, but she really didn't pitch it right. She failed to compliment my kids and speak of their unusual and breathtaking beauty. How could I trust HER to be a good manager and bring our family into it's justified and looming fame? Move over Spears family, here we come.

Ensign Moment!

2008-06-06T23:35:00.000-07:00

Our former Bishop Brad Wilcox used to make Jared and I laugh over what he called Ensign Moments in his family. Now I understand. Since much of the time our family looks more like the clips on Supernanny BEFORE the family has been reformed, we have to document well the "Ensign Moments" when a picture taken could actually make an Ensign article. Here is a recent one of ours.

The kids don't seem too bothered by Davie's cry. It is a cute cry, and he's good--he can invoke the pity of any female standing within a 20 foot radius. Judge for yourself.

And Aftie learned all of her alphabet and the sounds. I'm proud of her, but can't take any credit whatsoever. I tried teaching her, but she would have none of it. Then, a net total of 15 repeated showings of Leapfrog "Letter Factory" later and she's a full on alphabet expert. Whatever works.

I love these kidsees.

helllllllloooooooooooo out there!

2008-06-06T22:02:00.001-07:00

Hey anyone and everyone out there that might still be checking this blog. You must be a true, loyal friend or my mom. At any rate, I thank you deeply. Things have been crazy here, but we are starting to get used to life with a new baby in the house. All my newborn babies thus far have essentially hijacked my life for a solid 6 months. Baby Dave is no different. My babies are not the happy/sleepy type, but wonderful and I love them. Little Davie, as he is now known, is a lovable little guy and we've all fallen for him. He has, however, a difficult schedule. Instead of a regular 3-hour schedule of eat, play, sleep, Davie has more of a 3 DAY schedule with a full day of eating all day, a day or two of playing (OK, crying), followed then by a wonderfully welcome day of sleeping--during which I attempt to catch up on 3 days of house work. However, nights aren't too bad, and I am getting sleep.

We recently went to a stake activity, the Family Fun Fair. Which was flipping awesome! Here are some pics of Lindsey on a pony that she begged to have a ride on.

Also. I took Dallin and Dave to a doc appt this last week and Jared was home with the girls. It was a busy morning for him and he, on the phone a lot, admittedly, didn't check on them as often as he should have, but did he truly deserve this? These girls can commit some serious defacement in no time flat. Lets hope neither discovers matches, or we'll have some crazy arson on our hands.

Prevacid, I love you!

2008-05-01T01:09:00.000-07:00

I have to thank this medicine from the bottom of my heart. It has given me my son back. Dallin started taking it about a week ago and has been skipping around for the last couple of days giddy with a happy heart. He EATS! Tonight as I heated some left-overs in the microwave he came in the kitchen and said, "I don't like those things, but I'm going to eat them all gone!" And he did, and afterwards proclaimed that he now likes it! This is a MIRACLE, since I can't remember a night lately when he didn't walk in on my dinner preparations and say "I don't like that. I don't want that. I can't eat that."--in a whining tone! And then talking him into eating it for 20 minutes twice a day stripped me of any enjoyment from my meal as well (and I take great value in my meal times.)

Poor boy. The change in personality is big enough that he must have been feeling pretty bad with his reflux. The gastrointestinal specialist told us that if you have reflux past the age of 18 months, you will most likely have it into adulthood. I am grateful we live in the modern age of medicine.

The Art of the Eavesdrop

2008-04-30T22:22:00.000-07:00

I may not have a long and impressive list of talents, but I am, of late, unabashedly gladdened by my ability to selectively "listen-in." Mary and Emily, my two older sisters, will testify that as a girl I would consider myself part of a conversation even when I was not in the room. Some nights, once I had already talked Deboni to sleep in our bedroom, I would sit in the dark doorway, staring down the black hallway and listening to Mary and Em tell stories in their own room, finally interjecting when I felt I could no longer hold in my need to comment.
But when it comes to the kids I resist the urge to spoil the flow. And I don’t have a dark hallway, so I have to huddle around corners. But I LOVE listening to my kids conversations. Afton definitely takes the cake for the most random comments. Unfortunately her sweet voice is so soft it is often hard to hear. Like in this conversation overheard while Deej and Afton were playing:

D: No, Aurora doesn’t know where the planet is.
A: indistinguishable
D: Only Rudolph knows where the planet is.
A: indistinguishable
D: No. My planet does not have a Disneyland
A: Go over here! We’re hiding!
D: Na Na Na Na Na Na Afton!
A: Dallin, I want it to be Easter again.

It’s funny how the two talk over each other, their thoughts bouncing around off the other’s in ways I can’t follow. Dallin seems to be aware of what Afton says, but Aftie is only halfway tuned in and likely to jump at random to a completely different subject matter.
The other morning at breakfast:

A: So. . . . D.J. . . . how is it?
D: How is what?
A: Your birthday.
D: It’s not my birthday. It was a long, long time ago. [this conversation occurred in April, Dallin’s b-day is in Dec.]
A: [long pause] Oooohhhhhhhh.

Perhaps my favorite times to listen are during Dallin’s “storytimes.” When he has to use the restroom and suspects he may be a while on the throne, he invites Afton,
“Don’t you want to come to storytime?”
Once there, she sits on the wooden stepstool and listens to a story by Dallin with a protagonist of her choice. The plot inevitably meanders back to a hero scenario echoing one of his favorite movies, but Afton is thrilled and Lindsey listens in as well, humming and washing her hands for the full 20 minutes.

Siblings learn so much from their interaction. I am learning that I really do contribute the most by biting my tongue, even sometimes when I feel they are hurtful to each other. They do better working it out themselves. Recently I heard Dallin say to Afton, “Lindsey is my favorite sister.” I was about to jump in and rescue Afton’s poor emotions when I notice her suck in a surprised gasp before a smile cross her face: “She’s my favorite sister too!”

We adults are just too emotionally constipated. Kids are the greatest.

Family of SIX!

2008-04-16T23:31:00.000-07:00

We have grown in numbers this week. We welcome our newest recruit, David Richard Parker. He decided to join us late afternoon on Sunday, April 13th. The timing is a bit difficult while Jared is facing finals, but as a whole, we are thrilled. He was a whopping 8 lbs 5 oz, and 21 inches in length. Thanks to all who have contributed to our name poll and have been of service in general. And thanks, especially, to grandparents who are helping manage the untamed bunch during a recovering mom's pregnancy and labor detox.

Lindsey's TWO!

2008-03-30T22:44:00.001-07:00

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

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.

2008-03-30T21:16:00.000-07:00

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.)

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.

The Super Speed Action

2008-03-09T22:48:00.000-07:00

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

Super Fighter

2008-02-23T22:11:00.000-08:00

"Aren't we going to make a movie tonight Dad?" asked Dallin.
"No, it's too late, and you need to get in bed" I replied. But then came the prodding from Sarah, "just make a quick one, he's been asking all day." Fortunately for me, Dallin didn't need any stunt training. All of this came very natural as he has been practicing for the part of "Super Fighter" for at least the past couple of years. In fact, he has been living as a Super Fighter for some time now. It was only a matter of time before he would hit the big screen. That time has come...

Video Test

2008-02-23T01:27:00.000-08:00

This is a test. This is only a test. I wanted to see how the video maker works on my computer so I quickly threw this together in quite a random way. Hopefully future video's will be forthcoming.

Dinner with the Parkers

2008-02-21T21:08:00.000-08:00

We all got a chance to sit down together tonight. Jared got caught up in rain traffic (the city would shudder and die if snow ever fell on the roads here) and was late, missing the earliest discussions.
I did my usual dance of the worker bee, placing dishes of food down then returning to push them to the heavily overloaded side of the table opposite Lindsey's reaching arms. As the kids chattered, I heard Lindsey call her entree a "fishy," prompting a discussion over whether that was appropriate. Finally, Dallin set down the proper protocol of addressing our dinner.
“We can call it a fishy when it’s in the water, but when it’s for dinner, we should just call it fish.”
But by then Lindsey, half done with her fishy, wasn’t aware they were still talking about it.
I talked her into putting down her fork to fold her arms and Afton began a prayer which ended up as a description of Grandma and Grandpa’s motor home.
“And it has TVs.”
“And a kitchen. . .”
Dallin began objecting to the prayer too before I interrupted, desperate to preserve Afton’s recent willingness to pray on her own, and let him know that we can pray about anything we’d like to.
Once Jared arrived, the kids ran around in a burst of “Daddy’s home” energy, then everyone was wrangled back to the table, and we continued our meal with the usual game of “guess what I’m thinking of.”
The game has become quite predictable by now. It can be categorized with Dallin picking a particular Transformer toy or fast moving vehicle, Afton giving a random clue then listening to all of our guesses until one of them sounds neat enough to say “yes” to, and Lindsey just saying no to all of our guesses until we can finally get a nod out of her, and we all burst into cheers.
Tonight’s meal was a success. My standards aren't high: there were no major eating battles and everyone ate at least two of the major food groups. The process of cleaning up our plates was assisted by Lindsey’s trip around the table, dimpled 1 yr old hand outstretched, asking everyone for more broccoli from their dish. Afton was anxious to share, showing me as she offered her tiniest trees for the baby giant to gobble.
I wonder how different dinner will be five years from now.
Posted by Sarah

Baby Talk

2008-02-17T22:01:00.000-08:00

Dallin informed me of something the other day.

"Mom, I'm going to be talking like a baby to our new brother when he comes, because Brad does it to his new baby sister and she really likes it."

I think it's a great idea.

Dallin may not remember this himself, since Lindsey was born almost a full 2 years ago, and the infant years of both he and Afton have long since sludged down his memory drain, but he was born to one of the worst baby talkers known to mankind.

I am a self-confessed, hopeless, helpless, and incurable baby talker.

I had no intentions of being this way. I had always heard, like every mother does, that you should talk in regular tones and word structures to babies so that they can learn to speak correctly. Having fully grasped on to this concept, I was fully planning on correctly and responsibly doing just that.

But when my first-born off-spring was placed into my hands at the hospital, all my best laid plans vaporized. Words emerged dripped with honey, sugar, and high fructose corn syrup. Now, 3.8 children later, and much to the dismay of anyone who has witnessed my previous displays of language distortions and pitch abnormalities, I have no good intentions for this upcoming child whatsoever. His speech may be permantly altered. And so be it.

Dallin, Afton, Lindsey and I will be goo-gaaing at him with all our full mights.

How do you feel about baby-talking? Please comment and share.

Posted by Sarah

The Difference Between Diamonds and Fools Gold

2008-02-14T12:30:00.000-08:00

Back in my space-toothed, Ramona Quimbly, 4th grade days, my mind became saturated with gold as Mrs. Hansen described the history-altering tale of Sutter's Mill and the California Gold Rush. That was it? Some guy found a few nuggets of gold and thus sparked one of the largest human migrations in human history? I could totally do that. I then knew I would be discovering gold during the next recess and changing history forever by sparking a 20th century stampede of modern 49ers to the Lindon Elementary schoolgrounds.
Needless to say, all these years later I have yet to unearth anything but a few planted nuggets of fools gold while panning the stream at the Museum of History. Jared…….on the other hand, HAS fulfilled his childish fancy of stumbling upon a modern treasure.
“I always thought I would find a diamond.” Jared said to me last night. “What?” I replied, “and I used to scour the elementary school ground for gold but, of course, I didn’t really FIND it.”
And that is how Jared and I prove to be on different ends of the same stick. I came to my senses by 6th grade, realized the infantile patterns of my imaginings, and turned my hopes into something to look back and laugh at.

Jared, in the meantime, kept picking up pieces of broken glass every once in a few years. Not in an obsessed metal-detector on the beach type of way, more as a semi-conscious reaction of his younger years. Over time, he learned to recognize the sharp and squared shape of cut glass. So when Jared’s ever observant radar casually detected a lone glass-like object on campus Monday night, he began a semi-conscious analyzation of it. Why is it here in a crack of a sidewalk that is always swept clean? I don’t see any sharp edges, or other pieces of glass nearby? And without another thought, he stooped and scooped it lightly into his hand.
The guy at Kay’s Jeweler was ready to give him at least $3000 in store credit for it immediately despite the chipped edge. It has an impressive score in the four Cs department, and if it wasn’t chipped would likely fetch a quick $8,000 retail.
Since this turn of events, I have been seriously reviewing myself. Not only does my lack of observational skills worry me (I can be half-way through a shopping trip and suddenly discover Lindsey's tomato sauce handprint half-way down my shirt), but also my lack of childlike optimism. Have I given up on all my big ridiculous dreams? What about all my little ridiculous dreams? If Jared can find a diamond, maybe I COULD discover an unknown continent and win the national jump roping championships.
Please comment and share your deepest, funniest, most secret childhood dreams. Are you still giving them a go?

PS. If you know of anyone who lost a diamond on USC campus, call and let us know the shape and carat count, and we’ll reluctantly relinquish it to the owner.

Posted by Sarah

Our Prophet Dear

2008-02-03T22:03:00.000-08:00

I'd like to add my thanks to our dear prophet, President Hinckley, for his sacrifice and service. In a local Utah news interview Pres. Hinckley mentioned that it was hard for him to give up his privacy when he became such a public church figure, but that he knew it was impossible to serve the church and the world and keep his privacy, so he decided to look at all the positives and enjoy the people he was surrounded by while loving and serving us all.

When I heard him relate this, it struck me, again, that he gave so much to do what he did. He relinquished the playful, carefree days of retirement and spent every last breath living for US! What a great gift he gave in toiling for each of our souls. And he did it so kindly and happily. He inspires me, even in his death, to think a little less about Sarah, and to approach my life callings with a portion of that same selfless joy of service.

He truly deserves the rest and fruits of his labors that he now recieves with the Lord and with his family, and he will eternally be thanked for his sacrifice.

When I told Dallin of his passing, his response was simple and full of the faith and idealism of a 5 year old, "but he'll live again."
posted by Sarah

Come aboard. We're expecting you.

2008-01-28T02:19:00.000-08:00

To all family and friends:

Please come visit us here in sunny Southern California. You'll notice from the following pics and their subtitles that we have some good times here. The guest portion wing of our two bedroom apt is always open for you. Come explore the mysteries and surprises of LA and South Pasadena, California.

sooooooo..........
Set a course for adventure. Your mind on a new romance.

We offer rides with the SeaDream Kyaking Club

Get free skateboard training from a world class coach at a state of the art skate park.

Optional helicopter ride package available with LAPD.

or design your own dream tinker-toy get away!

Critics hail the cuisine as unique and irresistable!

Off-shore destinations include the Happiest Place on Earth!

Delighting audiences with a variety of dance, music, and stunning costumes

Love won't hurt anymore. It's an open smile on a friendly shore.

posted by Sarah

lyrics courtesy of The Love Boat

Salvador Aftie

2008-01-27T17:37:00.000-08:00

Enjoying the toys in drefts of paper towel snow

Afton is an artist and her medium is the world.

THAT is how I think of it lately when I must go back to scour, scrub and launder up her latest creation. Eating, sleeping, and socializing all take a second place to her artistic genius when it strikes. It doesn’t matter that 5 of her cute and energetic friends are here for preschool; that they are playing and eating and singing ABCs.
Where is Afton? She has locked herself in the bathroom to create an advent guard piece with bubblemint toothpaste and hand soap. Then, to add to the reflective element of the piece, Afton turns on the sink and initiates a reflection pond on the floor. When she hears me pleading, ordering, threatening and eventually pleading again for her to unlock the door, she "attempts" to unlock the door, happily tells me that her fingers are too slippery, then resumes her work, while the speed at which she fills up the cup and dumps it onto the floor increases.
You see, I am the enemy of her art. She knows that it will be destroyed upon my dismantle of the doornob and arrival in the bathroom. She knows that all evidences of her masterpiece's existence will be eliminated (except for my own photographic file to be used solely for my own self-pity-provoking purposes).
I have learned that when Afton is happy with her work, it doesn’t matter what punishment is impugned upon her. My disapproval does not waver her resolve to create the best smeared Postimpressionist Vaseline image of the Sistine Chapel known to man on our bathroom mirror.
So, I am resigned to feel that I am only helping the young artist prepare for the world of resistance she will face when she attempts to take her unique multi-medium artistic approach to the critical public. I challenge someone, ANYONE, to stop her then.
A carefully handcrafted hairpiece: from pure recycled chewed drinking straw

And why can’t 4 rolls worth of paper towels transform her room into a dreamy, yet dry winter wonderland? Why should Afton eat the popcorn with the other kids rather than hurl it in the air and twirl under it like she is dancing in fall leaves? She spices up our lifeless white apartment walls with colorful crayon murals, and our neutral carpet with a faux food-color rug; doubles Desitin as shampoo; and builds train track on the floor with the full bag of carrots just bought from Pavillions. Yogurt, ranch, ketchup, balsamic vinegar and even syrup are transformed from simple condiment dribbles on a plate to complete finger-painted self portraits on the table. Can there be a better use of six 1/2 pound cubes of butter than to paint a veneer on the kitchen floor and go skating with cousin Luke? And, surely, a bag of brownie mix is just as well enjoyed dumped on the carpet and formed into tasty mountain peaks, while huddled in the hidden cave behind a door with sister and emerging apprentice, Lindsey.

No . . . I am certainly not, though not without trying, the one who could stop my Afton's emerging art.

posted by Sarah

A Tribute to my MaMa

2008-01-16T23:40:00.000-08:00

Dallin was admiring my magnetized pen the other day. It is a favorite possession of mine and one that I have guarded carefully by placing it at the top of the fridge, and by quickly pulling out a pencil from the pencil cup to offer as substitute when ever the kids ask to use it.

"Who gave that to you?" Dallin asked.
"Grandma Ercanbrack" I replied.
"Your mom," he said.
"Yep."
"You're lucky. You have a better mom than I do." This statement of his caused me to turn from what I was doing.
"Thanks a lot, Deej," I said, knowing he wouldn't understand I was joking.
"Why?"
"Because I'M your mom," I said confidently, sure he would quickly amend his earlier statement.
"Yeah." he said wondering why he needed to repeat his statement to his mother who was staring so intently, "You're lucky, you have a better mom than I do."

Ouch! That one hurt! Of course I knew I wouldn't be my sons second favorite person forever (His dad had quickly taken first place once I quit breast feeding him), but so soon? I thought I would at least last through kindergarten. Or maybe until kindergarten started? I guess that's just a few months away anyway, so may as well start sawing at those apron strings now. Right?

As soon as I recovered from the blow, I had to agree with him. I do have an awesome mom. He nodded in agreement at my assent, as I remembered her patiently teaching him to help wash the dishes and letting him play in the bubbles.

That night as I told Jared of Dallin's blow to my ego and he quickly assured me it was just because he loved the pen, I wondered who else Dallin would trade me in for. I'm sure Jared's mom would be another candidate, as Dallin has two great grandmas. But I can still have hope, as long as I don't count any of Dallin's aunts, uncles or grandpas, that I am Dallin's 4th favorite adult in the whole world.

I guess I'll just wait until his mission for my comeback.

posted by Sarah

Welcome to The Details of Our Lives

2008-01-13T22:03:00.000-08:00

Readers beware. I in no way guarantee any type of satisfaction from the reading/participating of this blog. But I sure hope you will read and leave comments. The conception of this blog is primarily to aid and assist my failed journaling goals. However, since it is public, feel free to stay and wonder at the ramblings of a crazy mother's mind, and the profound (over-my-head) thoughts of a budding entrepreneur--my husband--who will someday take over the world. If all else fails, I hope to entertain you with some quips from our children's latest developments--if no one else reads, we all know that grandma and grandpa will.

by Sarah