I sometimes visit Cjane’s blog. I just read her question, "What offends you?" and I'd like to consider it. I've been stewing about something I said that may have been offensive. My neighbor said (kindly): "I can't believe you've had six kids. You're so skinny." My response: "It's genetic. I mean, I work out for an hour three times a week, but so do lots of people that have different shapes than I do. It's funny—I'd probably look the same whether or not I worked out. I bet even if I worked out like crazy, I'd still look pretty much the same. My sister who has my same body type works out 6 days a week, and she looks just like I do" (at least in clothes. I haven't seen her *****. Don't plan to.)
That's what I said. I'm thinking it came across as bragadocious. Braglicious. Bragnificent. [Shuddering.] Like I think I've got one hot bod. One that couldn't get better if I tried.
So, what I meant to say was, I don't take much credit for a fast metabolism. And I don't think my own shape is the best kind of body type. I think most people who feel overweight would want to keep their own shape, just lose a few pounds. (More than one person has told me I look better pregnant, because my face doesn't look so skeletal.) (BTW, that doesn't offend me. It's my face. I accepted it a long time ago.)
I guess what offends me is when people take a piece of conversation or a snapshot of my life and make assumptions about who I am, what I think, or what I do.
Like the time I let Getty (at age 3) into our fenced backyard, which adjoins our neighbor's yard with a single gate. I notice he's enjoying a popsicle with our neighbor's daughters. I go back into the house. Suddenly a giant dog appears in the yard and decides to play tag with the kids. Getty takes off toward the nearest exit—our neighbor's open front-yard fence gate—and proceeds to run all the way down the sidewalk, turn the corner, and run screaming up our street. I hear crying and knocking at my front door, wonder why in the world Getty came all the way around to the front door, and lift him onto my 8-month pregnant belly to calm him down. Thirty seconds later, another knock at the door. It's a woman I've never seen before. She proceeds to tell me how angry she is with me. How I didn't know where my 3-year-old son was. How I was a neglectful mother.
My question is, How could she possibly know what kind of a mother I am? Catch any mother in the world at one point or another, and we look horrific. Catch us at other times, and we look heroic.
So, back to the alleged brag-o-rama [cringe]. I guess in that instance, if my neighbor IS offended (which I can't confirm), then I would be offended right back. Hmmmmm.
During Lone Peak's 2-0 win over Riverton in the first round of the Class 5A girls' soccer state tournament on Tuesday, driving winds made it difficult for either team to stick to their game plan.
"We chose to defend the wind [in the first half]," said Lone Peak coach Mike LaHargoue. "Still, we had a couple of chances that, if you could have hit in, would have made me feel a little better."
But when the Knights were able to make a play?
Textbook.
Having the wind at their backs didn't hurt, either.
After fighting through a scoreless first half, Lone Peak came out firing after the break and, in the 49th minute, orchestrated a play worthy of the highlight reel.
That's when Lone Peak fullback McKenzie Evans, who played for the Silverwolves as a freshman last season, stripped the ball midfield and lobbed it to McKenna Fox near the right corner of the goal box. From there, Fox scooped the ball left to Katie Lohner, who hit the net to put the Knights up 1-0.
"It was a perfect play," said LaHargoue. "But really, in the state tournament, we'll take anything we can get."
You can't live in these parts without catching Cougar Fever. Your hair turns blue, expands, fuzzifies, your tongue gets bigger, nostrils flare, and oh, you get way cuter (if that's possible).
Elle gets ready for school. Jacket, please; Spidey backpack; flip flops; and a friend. 
While Rob, Elle, and I were watching MK’s soccer game, Rob noticed someone’s leftover, unidentified fountain drink sitting on the grass near us. He turned to me and asked, “Should I just give that pop to Elle?”
Now, I find at least two things that are curious about his question.
One is obvious.
The other is that he was apparently unable to predict my response….
If it weren’t for our popcorn pillow talks, I’d never catch up with my one-time 24/7 responsibility. I wouldn’t have found out, for instance, that McKenzie was asked to the Homecoming Dance (like weeks ago). Her response to her prospective date was, “Fifteen-year-olds can’t go to that!” (We’ve brainwashed her gooood!)
“Cub scout leader. Just kill me now.” I believe those were my first words to Rob after receiving my new calling. I would rather be Gospel Doctrine teacher. Are you kidding me?
It was all my fault. I was trying to simplify my life. I considered dropping the scouting program from my radar. I mean, I’m already on top of Getty for chores, homework, and football schedules—how could I add more tasks to our relationship? I decided it had to go, or Rob would have to take over. Good plan. Rob was an Eagle Scout. If it’s important to him, he’ll do it. If not, we’ll drop it. Getty will still attend, but I won’t worry about the specifics. I’m simplifying, right?
I actually prayed for confirmation that my approach was “satisfactory” (because I knew it wasn’t Celestial). Not a day later, I was called into the Bishop’s office and released from my favorite calling, Relief Society teacher (teach once every other month—that’s why it’s my favorite), and called into scouts. Not only that, but the 2nd counselor emphasized three things I would need to commit to as a leader, “Testimony (check), Time (cringe), and TENURE (what the—),” which means I’m in cub scouts until retirement (or thereabouts).
Well, looking at the bright side now, and there is one, I’m very happy to be spending this time with Getty before he becomes a deacon and the men and manly things begin to overtake his life. I have God’s permission to leave my responsibilities at home and have fun (tying knots?) with my boy. I’ll get out of my comfort zone—that’s always good, right? I’ll learn more about boy stuff, which may come in handy. And, I like the leaders I’m working with—two new friends. See? I turned it around. Yay me!
Cam’s imaginary friend, Candice, who has been a part of the family for over a year-and-a-half, is now joined by Isabella, Shordan (sometimes pronounced Jordan), and Goff. Candice, you’ll remember, has pink hair. Turns out, Shordan has all-the-colors hair and Isabella is just plain blond. Cam asked me if Candice could sleep over tonight. I said, “Sure!” He said, “Mom, you’re the nicest mom ever.”
On my way to Cy’s football practice, I saw Cam and his friends racing down the hill on their Big Wheels. Cam was using his bare feet for brakes (because he’s a boy). I yelled out the Burb window, “Go put your shoes on!” Ten minutes later, I pulled back into the driveway and noticed Cam had his shoes on (never happens when I only ask a child once). I yelled down the street as he tore down the hill, “Thanks for putting your shoes on!” His back to me, his arm shot up with a thumbs up.
Who is this guy?
James Bond? Batman? … Super Grover?
Going back some years to my childhood—not sure how old I was, but old enough to remember with clarity—I spent many an afternoon with my mouth full of warm Kool-Aid or Ovaltine. I couldn’t say exactly why. Maybe I was savoring it. Maybe. (It’s diluted with saliva and is lukewarm.) I just couldn’t be rushed. I let it slide down my throat in tiny increments. The consistent saliva production ensured I would never drought. It was bliss. Turns out it’s genetic, only Elle doesn’t discriminate between food and drink and feels it’s important to incubate both for long periods of time in her mouth. Disgusting, irrational, yet, I can relate.
