In the interest of full disclosure

We bought a couch.

After several weeks of perusing craigslist regularly, I found a couch Tom and I could agree on that was in our price range.

But there was no way both of us would be able to go look at it anytime soon, and if I went by myself, I would have no way to get it home, since the van is full of carseats. But, luckily, it was in Kirkland, a mere hop, skip, and a jump from my parents. And since they love me so much, they arranged to buy it, bring it to their house, and later deliver it to ours. No charge. (For the delivery, that is. I did pay for the couch.)

And it was perfect.It was in great shape. It was perfectly comfortable. It converted to a bed, in case of overnight visitors. It looked great in the space we had for it. It even went reasonably well with our other decor.

And my kids thought it was a trampoline.

Of course, they think that about every couch, (or any other bouncy surface, for that matter,) but I was less a fan of this behavior with our new couch.

And they more they bounced, wiggled, jumped, and frolicked on it, the more I realized that the seams were not designed for this kind of treatment. After only a few days one of the seams was looking tired, and starting to pull, much more so than I'm sure they would have with normal adult use.

But I liked the couch so much. And it was such a great deal. And my parents were so nice to arrange everything.

But it was not built for children.

And rather than let them ruin a perfectly good couch, we decided to post it on craigslist, to find it a home more suited to its purposes.

It sold within 10 minutes.

With a $50 profit.

So now, we're back where we started, but I feel a little guilty. Like I cheated the system, and used my parents. But that was never my intention.

(And it is still sitting in my living room, waiting to be picked up. But I have the money, so I'm sure it will be.)


Kids say the darndest things

As Rico's vocabulary develops, so does his repertoire of hilarious (at least to me) comments and conversations.

On Sunday I was practicing my song for sacrament meeting (I sang a solo...) as I was getting ready for church.

Him: Wike dat gong, mom.
Me: You like my song? Thanks buddy!
Him: No, I NO wike dat gong!

Flattery at its finest, I tell ya.

His other favorite comment, is ahw, ahw! As in:

Him: I ave ca-cuh?
Me: Yep, here you go.
{hand him a couple crackers}
Him: No! Want ahw, ahw ca-cuhz!

In fact, he wants all, all of everything. And he's so cute, he might just get it.


Perfect Monday

Yesterday was perfect.

The weather was sunny and warm. The kids were mostly cooperative.

After playing at home in the morning (actually, the kids played, I was domestic and made myself a skirt, to be shown later, once I take a picture,) we headed up to the park, where we picnicked and played with lots of friends.

Then it was home to bed, but once Tom got home,
(early,) we headed out to Flaming Geyser State Park for dinner and family home evening (non-Mormons, see here for an explanation).

We picked flowers, hugged trees, played on the toys, climbed the jungle gym, and finally caught this on camera.Who could ask for anything more?


Will you be my friend?

I've been spending a little more time on Facebook since we upgraded our internet. I still don't post anything very often, and haven't put up pictures since the boy was like 6 months old, but I like seeing what others I know are up to, and catching up a bit with people I haven't seen in years.

But I do have some issues with the whole thing.

Mostly the "friend" thing. Though I'm flattered by friend requests from people I know and don't know (or don't remember) I'm often led to wonder: Why do you want to be my friend? How do I ignore friend invites without offending? Or should I care?

When random people that I went to high school with (but never spoke to and don't remember) , or my little brother's friends, or my friends' little brothers, or better yet, my little brother's friends' little brothers add me as a friend, what am I supposed to think? Do you really want me for a friend, or did you just recognize my name and are trying to boost your friend count? Because really, I don't really care what you're up to. And I don't want all my status updates and comments and random stuff broadcast to you every second.

But then again, I'm posting on the internet for all to see, so what's the matter with one more (albeit random) person seeing it?

Maybe I'm just stingy with the word friend. Maybe if they were called acquaintances. Or something else.

Am I just being a dork? Or rude? Should I get over the fact that I might not consider all my "friends" in the same light?

How do you decide who to be-"friend"?


In Appreciation

I would like to start this post by thanking all who responded to my last couple of advice-request posts.

To those of you who offered advice on shin splints by comment, email, phone, and in person: my calves and shins thank you greatly. I have been running for almost four weeks now, and have not had a single problem since the first week. It makes 5 am much more bearable when I'm not also in pain.

And for those of you who offered cookie-baking advice, may I present:

my much improved and cookie-looking (as opposed to pancake-looking) cookies. If you are at the ward potluck tonight, you might even get to taste them. Lucky you.

Thanks again for your help. Without you, I would be in pain and have the world's flattest cookies.



We went to the cardiologist again last Monday. (It was Tom's spring break last week, which is why I never got around to blogging.) The hole in her heart is not showing any signs of shrinking, and she gained only 7 ounces in the four weeks between appointments. Babies are supposed to be gaining at least that much each week, not in a month! Also, her heart is looking more enlarged (since it's working so hard to pump the blood).

Because of this, the doctor prescribed a water pill to help her get rid of some of the extra water (and no, it's not really a pill, that's just want it's called). To help her gain weight, the doctor is having me pump milk and add formula to it to add calories to her diet. He also said that surgery is most likely going to be necessary later this summer, or early fall, before the cold and flu season sets in (since babies with VSD are more susceptible to things like pneumonia, etc, which would not be so much fun).

I know that the Lord is watching over her, but more prayers are always welcome.



In theory I'm a huge fan of April Fool's day. I love the idea of pulling pranks and having a laugh. Rubber band around the kitchen sprayer. Jello mix in the shower head. Plastic wrap on the toilet.

In my mind they are great fun.

But in practice, not so much. Instead of laughs and giggles, you get water all over the kitchen, a blue (or pink, or green, or whatever color jello you used) husband who is not amused, and a huge mess. (In theory. I've never actually done any of the above.)

I think it started fairly young.

I was never one for making my bed, and especially not one for changing my sheets. {Have you recently tried putting sheets on a bunk bed? It's not the easiest thing.} One year (when I was probably less than 10) I got around to putting fresh sheets on my bed on March 31 (or so) and on April 1st, my bed was short-sheeted by some well-meaning family member.

If they were expecting a laugh, they didn't get it.

I broke down in tears.

Or there was the time when I was tied to my bed with a phone cord and dusted with confetti by a fun-loving roommate and the girl downstairs while I slept.

I'm not sure what I said, but I am sure they did not get the reaction they were expecting, and ended up feeling bad for what they thought was a bit of harmless fun.

Looking back now I can laugh about these and see how funny they were meant to be, {and would have been if I had reacted better,} but when in situations like these, I don't see the humor.

Moral of the story is: don't expect any April Fool's pranks from me, and if you choose me as your victim, realize that I may not find it funny for years. If then.

P.S. This lack of humor applies mainly to physical pranks, not wedding/pregnancy announcements, and other non-humiliating verbal jokes (in the spirit of: Your shoe's untied--April Fools!)

Janette Rallison

I get into ruts sometimes. Eating the same foods, wearing similar outfits, doing my hair the same way (or not doing it, as the case may be). You get the picture.

And I'm not saying it's a bad thing.

Sometimes it's a good thing. Like right now, it's books by Janette Rallison. And I'm loving them. They are great YA chick lit. {Although I think a tween boy could enjoy Playing the Field.} I've read four five so far, and I'm looking forward to reading more.

One funny thing about it is that I was already planning on writing this post when I read this this morning.

Great minds think alike.

{On a side note, I find it hard to type her name. I really want to type l's instead of t's. Can't imagine why that would be.}