I am sorry that I whine

Do you remember when I was complaining about scouting? That I wondered if the program was more for moms than the scouts themselves?

Well, first of all, I shouldn't be whining about that. That's dumb.

And second, the scouting program ABSOLUTELY knows how much the moms of the scouts do. That is why the moms get a pin when the scout advances. No one else gets a pin, only the long-suffering scouting-supporting mom.

I feel validated.

But, in my opinion, they shouldn't make the pins so camouflage-y. They should be yellow or red and jump out at you as you pass by and say, "Pat this mom on the back--her son has done something cool in scouts."

I would wear the prototype. I'm serious. I need all the pats on the back that I can get.

I hate ants!

Ok, so my kids would be saying, "Ooh, Mom said hate." But, I think this aversion is as strong as that. I don't strongly dislike them, I hate them. Here is one of the many reasons why:

I have a "laundry chute." (Actually it is just the place where we throw the dirty clothes downstairs from the upper floors. But I like to think that I have a laundry chute, so don't go and burst my bubble, ok?)

I noticed that the laundry was pretty much taking over the entire house, so I thought I should do some laundry room shuttling. As I picked up some of the dirty towels, ants started to pour out of them. EEEEWW! Grody to the max! Gag me with a pitchfork! (OK-enough with the valley girl impersonations)

Did I mention that I hate ants?

I figured out why, too. Growing up in the San Francisco Bay Area, I had a pretty idyllic childhood. Fabulous weather, great culture, and NO LARGE BUGS! Or thunderstorms, but that is a different rant. Since moving to different parts of our great nation, I have heard stories of terrifying bugs of gargantuan sizes (mostly from Alexis--Texas and the Hawaii clan of the Johnsons). Yet, I had none of that in my experience. So ants are the epitome of disgusting-ness and yucky-bug-ness. I know I am a bug rookie, but its all I got!

Oh, and I hate ants.

I'm in love!

I sat here today, at this computer, watching my two middle children having a ball on the trampoline. Giggling, laughing, screaming with joy (well, mostly). Then when Hadland came home from school, I mentioned that he could go jump if he wanted to. He did! And William joined him for a long time. I love having a trampoline in my backyard. My kids aren't whining to be glued to the boob tube. They are outside, having a great time together. And no runs to the ER...yet. Tonight, after all the kids were in bed, I jumped for about 10 minutes. Don't worry, no flips for this muchacha! What fun. I jumped in the chilly night air, looking up at Mt. Timpanogos with its fresh blanket of snow. Not bad, eh? Almost makes you want to live here.

Almost.

I am a gardener...

I think.

Are you a gardener if:

1. you can handle a rototiller?

2. you can pay your kids a penny a rock to pick them out of the garden plot?

3. you can wear a big floppy hat in the sun?

4. you then get completely lobster-esque on your arms?

5. you can dream about tomato juice dripping down your chin as you bite into your own homegrown tomato?

Well then, I guess I am a gardener. Really, the only requirement is that you have a garden, right? I guess you have to work in it, too.

Are you a gardener too? (potted plants count, you know?!)

One other question--are gardeners always sore?

Hands

Sarah got a new word this week--hands. She enunciates the "ds" part so well, I just love to hear her. And she still loves to say shoes. She walks around the house picking up, putting on, and walking around in any shoes she can find. She is so funny!

Tonight she and Lauren took a bath (not a regular occurrence in the evening at our house), and they had a bath. I got tired of hanging out on the toilet seat, so I took Sarah out and got her dressed for bed. I was putting away some clothes in her room when Lauren walked in to say that Sarah had fallen into the tub. I ran to the bathroom only to find a fully clothed (in footed pjs) Sarah lying on her belly in the lukewarm tub water. I just had to laugh. I had to locate another pair of pjs (not an easy feat today) and got her safely in to bed before she could get in any more trouble! A few minutes after all this took place, I was looking for a little sympathy and told Larry what had happened. I told him about the baths, and then I asked him if he could guess what Sarah had done next. He answered, "Poop in the tub?" Needless to say, that stopped my pity party right in its tracks--it could DEFINITELY have been worse than a soaked diapers and pair of jammies! Thank you, sweetie, for helping me appreciate the good times! :)

Yikes!

It isn't like I don't check everyone's blogs multiple times a day...and I just love seeing everyone's new posts...but I don't post? What's up with that? Maybe I am just boring...

My back is much better, thank you! And I am getting "back in the saddle" tomorrow. We got a trampoline of our very own, and we'll be putting it up in the morning. I think the kids are going to burst with excitement (at least I will). I can't wait to see our family having fun on it. So many memories on ours growing up...Jeremy's broken leg, sleeping out in the summer, laying out (some of my sisters even wore bikinis--tsk, tsk), and jumping until we couldn't stand it any more. I just love it when the memories can keep going to another generation.

But, no, I will not be doing any more flips...until I can figure out how to do it without injuring my back!

I'm getting old!

Well, it is official. I am getting old. On saturday I went to an indoor trampoline playground. I went with my fabulous sisters for a little laughin' and a little movin' and shakin'. We did plenty of all three!

My little sister Robin did a flip and made it look so easy. So what did I do? Yep--peer pressure did me in! (it is all your fault, Rob! :) When I finished flip #2, I landed on my butt, caught my breath, and jumped up only to feel a crazy twinge in my back. So now, two days later, I am getting better. I am so getting old, and I am BUMMED about it! I guess I just have to accept my "mature" status and get on with being prudent.

But I hate that word.

I'd much rather be jumping on a trampoline, wouldn't you?

And if you're worried that I have lost my nerve--I'm getting right back on that horse (menos flips, I think). I can be kinda mature, maybe!

P.S. Women's Conference ROCKED!!! And my house was clean when I got home! Yippee!