Just Bend Over Backward, Mom!

The girls entered a solo dance competition an hour-and-a-half away. When we finally arrived, I dropped the girls off and went to park the car. I got a call on my cell phone. It was Mia. "I forgot my solo music, and Taralee doesn't have a back-up. Can you just drive home and get it, and they'll let me perform late. It's in my bedroom." Just drive back and get it? JUST DRIVE BACK AND GET IT?

Well, we worked it out without my having to drive FOUR HOURS to correct a mistake MIA made. My point is, daughters just don't get it sometimes. But daughters turn into mothers, which means they WILL get it! Ahahahahahaha (that was an evil laugh).

Okay, my other point is, Mia couldn't "place" because she wasn't prepared on time with her music (I agree with that policy!), but she did get to see how the judges scored her in comparison to the other five competitors, and she would have gotten Queen! Bitter sweet victory. McKenzie also won Queen against five competitors and got to take her trophy home. Great job, Girls!

Belated Disney Details

The girls were leaving in two days to perform at Disneyland with Taralee and Maximum Dance; Rob was mid-sabbatical during the transition from Moss to his new business, Aspire; and I had a crazy thought. Rob’s sister worked at the airlines and could get buddy passes, Rob could stay home with 5-month-old Elle and 2-year-old Cam, I could pump, and I just might be able to take Getty and Cy to Disneyland for the first time in their lives! I’d recently come to the conclusion (based on years of experience) that Rob is “anti-vacation,” so I knew he’d be excited for the kids to have the opportunity to go to Disneyland and just as excited that he didn’t have to be the one to take them. He was. So, I announced the new plan . . . and got mixed reviews. The boys were cautiously optimistic (remember the last time I announced the Disney trip? “Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean you boys, just the girls with their dance group. . . .”), and the girls were downright pouty. We were unwittingly horning in on their get-away with their girlfriends. OK. I respect that, “We’ll happily give you your space. We’ll just do our own thing, and if we run into you, you can decide if you want to hang out with us for awhile or not. Either way works.” So, a couple of days later, the boys and I headed for the airport with Ann and Ashley and five Skywest buddy (stand-by) passes. Meanwhile, American Airlines had grounded ALL of their planes because of a failed inspection issue, so you can imagine how that impacted the other airlines. Ann and Ashley had priority passes and were able to get on the first flight, but Getty, Cy, and I had to wait for the next flight, 2 hours away. Getty had a brief but sincere meltdown, “I can’t believe we have to wait TWO WHOLE HOURS!” But, we got settled in (in the airport bathroom while I pumped) and soon enough it was time for the next flight. Overbooked by one. Missed the flight. Waiting for the next one. Full. Waiting for the next flight. Full. The last flight of the night was overbooked by one, and we were listed numbers 4, 5, and 6 on the stand-by list. Not good. If we didn’t get on this flight, we’d likely have to cancel the vacation. Getty suggested we say a prayer, which we did. I went up to the counter to see if anyone had cancelled. The attendant said, “No one has cancelled, and it’s not likely you’ll get on this flight. . . . Wait a minute, on this Delta flight over here, we have more than 20 seats available. You’ll be able to get on for sure.” Now, Ann has worked for the airlines for over a year, and she had said several times, “I wish you could get on a Delta flight, because a few of them aren’t booked solid, but it’s against policy if you have Skywest buddy passes.” But, I was willing to play along with this attendant as she asked me to get on a “Delta phone” and make the necessary arrangements. No luck. Just as I had suspected. I went back to the attendant and told her they couldn’t help me. She said, “Well, I’m just going to put you on this flight. Let me check with my manager.” Again, I let it play out. She showed the manager the buddy passes, and to my surprise, the manager checked off on it and booked us on the last flight out! This time Getty said, “Only two more hours til our flight! YAY!” When we finally arrived at the Los Angeles airport, Ann said again, “I can’t believe they let you fly a Delta flight. They can’t do that!” Our Disney vacation survived on a wing and a prayer.

You Are My Sunshine

Elle’s cheeks are much too full of puddin’. That’s a plain fact. Elle is awesome. Easy-going, easy to schedule, easy to entertain, easy to read. Easy. LOVE HER!

The Poop on Cam

Update on Cam: McKenzie’s pretty sure Cam has arachnophobia. If he does, she’s caused it.
Cam continues to poop his pants 6 times a day. Waiting for the potty train. Toot, toot!

More California Adventures

One of our first rides was “Tower of Terror” at California Adventures. McKenzie had hyped that ride for years. I had never been to California Adventures, so I didn’t know what to expect. Cy was tall enough, so we jumped aboard. Now, I love thrilling, hard-core, scary rides, but I was not prepared for the terror that ride delivers. That was me. Now imagine sweet, cautious, sensitive, 5-year-old Cy. Cy was beyond terrified. Scarred for life was more like it. When we finally got off and were walking out of the building, I stopped to hug it out of him. Oh, the guilt. It took awhile. When he got some degree of composure, we tried to laugh about it by looking at the photo of us screaming our heads off. Next to us was a 60-something year-old man and his two 30-something daughters, who were telling him, “Dad, you’ve got to calm down. Calm down.” I told Cy, “See, that ride even scared that Grandpa!” The man heard me and turned to Cy with tears in his eyes, and choked out, “I almost had a heart attack! That’s one scary ride.” Cy smiled.

Back at the Ranch

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Rob took care of Cam and Elle for the five days we were in Cali. When I asked how it went, he said, “It’s hard because you can’t really do anything when they’re awake, and then when I put the baby down for a nap, I only have an hour-and-a-half to get stuff done, and I can’t go anywhere because she’s sleeping.” Ummmmm . . . ya. Welcome to motherhood.

Rob's Apology

The kids' bedtime at our house in MY world is 8:00 sharp. This is critical for my sanity. Everyone in our family knows this from sorry experience, and yet this line in the sand continues to be crossed, leaped over, sprinted by, and high-jumped. Rob, as you may have guessed, is all patience and mercy over this issue. I am all crime and punishment (aka the more REASONABLE approach, right? Right? Don't cross me!). Anywho, after I vented my frustrations (sweetly and rationally, of course), I left the house with Mia for our Mama Mia Monday night. When I came home, I found this on my computer . . . . HE apologizes when I'M wrong. A lovely, lovely man.

Rob's "Surprise" 40th Birthday Party

So, Rob’s big 40 was approaching, and I decided to throw him a surprise party at a restaurant with all of his friends. About a month out, I started scheming and planning, covering my tracks carefully. I called friends, gathered addresses, sent invitations, made reservations, wrote up a questionnaire entitled, “Just How Well Do You Know Your Good Buddy, Rob?” put together scrapbook pages of my favorite photos of him, bought a glow-in-the-dark volleyball for the “after party,” and barely mentioned his birthday to him—just enough to acknowledge it but not enough to arouse suspicions, especially in a person who is suspicious by nature. . . . He didn’t have a clue. Not a clue. That is, until 2 hours before the party when the chinese restaurant called our home to confirm reservations for 18. I was at the girls’ dance competition in Clearfield all day. Ya. I had already confirmed the reservation two days prior. Duh! . . . If only I had thought to give them my cell phone number. Durr. . . . So, now I know I could never get away with murder—I would probably leave just one tiny careless clue that would be my undoing. Too bad—that Asian woman would have been toast!

Clint & Scott at the "After Party"

Great Expectations

Well, it’s been four months since I had the baby, so it was time for a ferocious de-clutter starting with the three older kids’ bedrooms. After processing about 98 toys in each room, I realized that it’s seriously beyond their skill to keep that kind of mass junk neat and orderly. Ya. Kinda obvious to some people, but apparently I have inappropriately high expectations. So, I came up with a hard and fast rule, except not so hard and not so fast: Only clothes and books allowed in the bedrooms. This rule gives me a great sense of peace and hope for the future of bedroom cleanliness.

Gramps

Rob is approaching his 40th birthday. While wandering around Seagull book looking for Easter presents and carrying Elle in her pink sleeper, the cashier asked Rob, “Is that your grandson?” Whoa. What’s even crazier is it could have been true if we’d had a baby soon after we married. Yipes!

Airing Dirty Laundry

During the de-clutter, guess how many smelly socks I found at the foot of Getty’s bed under his covers? Just take a wild guess. Did you guess 26? You’d be right. Getty could never find socks to wear, so I just kept running to Target to buy a pack. What I want to know is who’s in charge of changing his sheets for crying out loud?! (Is this the kind of info I should just keep to myself?)

"I know Dr. Phil is true . . . "

During a family testimony meeting on Fast Sunday, Cam stood in front of us and proceeded to bear his testimony of Dr. Phil. Yesterday, he was playing blocks and named one “Dr. Phil.” In our house, we have two snack times, 10:00 a.m. and 3:00 p.m. (or, as Cy calls it, “Dr. Phil” snack time, as it coincides with the show). Is this healthy? I’m going to write in to the “Dr. Phil” show and get us all some counseling.

"I have a dream . . ."

“I can’t believe it! Only six more months ‘til I can get my ears pierced!” Mia’s been waiting in desperation since she was eight years old. She’s already picked out her studs and had me buy her favorite earrings at “Claire’s”—a set of lime-green, yellow, and blue pairs of peace-sign dangle earrings. She has committed her friends to buy her only earrings for her birthday party. She’s even instructed her best friend, McKenzie Richards, to buy her second favorite set of earrings—fake zipper heads (you read that right)—in lime-green, yellow, and red.

Bye-Bye Babies

Cy, age 5 1/2 now, said last week, “Mom, did you put my babies [blankies] on my bed? I gave them to Cam. I’ve grown out of them.”

The McKenzie’s

Rob was in Las Vegas on a Saturday morning. It was 8:55, and I was rushing to nurse the baby (try that sometime), so I could drive McKenzie (and Mia) to gymnastics before 9:00. I picked them up at 10:15 and then dropped them off at dress rehearsal (in Taylorsville—25 minutes away) beginning at 11:00. I picked them up at 2:00, and McKenzie says, “By-the-way, I’ve got a soccer game [at the Olympic Oval—20 minutes away] at 3:00, so take me home first, so I can change.” (Remember the nursing baby and four other kids I’m solely responsible for today?) On Sunday, she told me, “I have a basketball game at 5:30 tomorrow.” I said, “You work from 4:30 to 6:15.” No problem. “You can just take me to work, then pick me up in time for the game, then take me back after the game and then pick me up from work before dinner.” I’m thinking of changing our last name to McKenzie. We’ll have Rob McKenzie, Lorenne McKenzie, McKenzie McKenzie, Mia McKenzie . . . . It works.

Oh, the Irony . . .

So, I haven’t been to church since NOVEMBER in an effort to protect my newborn from a dastardly season of RSV (according to my pediatrician). I told the pediatrician that I was ready to come out of hiding, that I had never been this extreme before (missing church for the entire winter, etc.). He said, “Well, the ‘bugs’ are peaking in March. We’ll see a lot of sick babies in April, too.” So, I stayed away from church and continued to wash my hands 40 times a day. And Elle got RSV. What-EV!! Luckily I caught it early, so she had the meds in her before the RSV peaked in her system (day 3). The liquid steroid was an experience . . . I had to try and bond with a new and crazy baby. And her appetite was out of control. Fun times.

Never Gonna Live This Down

We had an “awesome” FHE lesson last night. It started out well . . . I bought a can of dog food and promised the kids I would pay them $100 if they ate one spoonful of the beefy, cheesy, doggie gunk (mmm, mmm good). They all were jumping up and down, beyond excited. Within about ten minutes of nose-plugging and dancing up and down, M&M and PG, eyes shut tightly, had each gulped down a spoonful. Getty made sure he was the first, which sealed it for M&M, who weren’t about to be shown up by their younger brother. Finally Cy, tears streaming down his face, kids yelling, “You can do it--we all did!” took a tiny bite, we called it good, and then the fun started. Cy threw up . . . four times. Rob and I sat the four of them down and explained how some choices are obviously bad—drugs, teen pregnancy, lying, eating dog food . . . but people still choose them. Why? Bottom line, Satan promises that it won’t hurt to try it once, you won’t get pregnant—that only happens to other people, no one will ever know . . . but these are all lies. Then there’s peer pressure. Why did you eat dog food? An obvious bad choice, but we were all cheering you on, Getty wanted to be the big man, and we promised you money. Then we read the kids a few scriptures about how Satan is the father of all lies. Then I said, “Guess what? We promised you $100 to make a bad choice. We lied just like Satan does. You don’t get $100. . . . (This is where it all goes down the toilet [with the vomit].) Getty went positively NUCLEAR (surprise, surprise). Weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth, etc. The kids did get a $10 consolation prize, but as you might have guessed, it was too little, too late. Among Getty’s many lively railings were these, “I’ll never believe you again!” and “My parents are liars!” and, my personal favorite, “You ARE Satan!” McKenzie and Mia gave me nasty crusties. Seewhutimean? “Awesome.”

Six Strange Habits

Tagged by Sarah and Cindy. I tag Jen, Megan, and Britt (my entire blogging world).

Six Strange Habits:
1. I have to wear a Joan Collins "Dynasty" eye mask to sleep. My whole life I had insomnia. Now the problem is solved. So simple. And so chic. (haha)
2. I only get out of bed when I absolutely HAVE to--ten minutes before the school bus comes.
3. I must have my toenails painted at all times. On the other hand, my fingernails look like a man's, and I'm strangely proud of that fact.
4. I panic when I'm without sunglasses, lip balm, and my asthma inhaler.
5. I feel naked if I haven't curled my eyelashes that day. (NEVER happens.)
6. If someone "pops in" when my house is a mess, as soon as they leave, I hurry and clean up as fast as I can, and I pretend that it really wasn't messy at all.

Hotel Pillow Fight!

Newport's a Beach

No, that's not a frog and a red lizard; it's a frog and Cy's chaw. Bubble yummy!


We heart Newport beach!






"Too bad Ashley's my cousin."










Miss you!

Ashley's got guys crawling all over her!

Grounded

So, we had buddy passes, but you know the whole American Airlines grounding ALL of their planes thing? Eight-and-a-half hours and five bumped flights later, we boarded our plane and headed for Disney. Yep, that's me pumping in the airport bathroom. Getty's trying the . . . youknowhut . . . boredom can drive you to do things you never thought you would . . . .

Goofing Around

I'm All Sense and Sensibility

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