18 Holes is 14 Too Many

When my sister Cyndie and her family were here for New Year's, we went on a little trip to Amazing Jake's for some pizza buffet and arcade action. They had a mini-bowling alley that we wanted to try out, but the wait was pretty long so we opted for miniature golf instead.

We thought it would be fun. And it was. But with 5 adults and 4 kids playing, those 18 holes took forever. In fact, I'm pretty sure we are still playing right now...

Julia, Audrina, Zariah and Savanna,

gearing up for a never-ending adventure.

Not too much golf course etiquette going on here,but

we figured the doubling up would get us through faster.

It didn't really.

Julia having a Happy Gilmore moment.

Audrina in action.

It's all in the hips...

Savanna bringing up the rear.

Yes, Audrina, I know exactly how you feel.

The pink-jacketed little girl in the picture got tired of waiting for our large group and ended up cutting in front of us around hole 12, much to our chagrin. Then we got to wait for five kids instead of four. Yipp. Eee.

The Good and Bad of "The Grass is Greener" Syndrome

My sister, Laura, said something the other day that got me thinking. She was sitting on the couch getting ready to grade papers for a college class she teaches. (Can you believe I'm a sister to someone who teaches college? I must be old. Or maybe just she is. But I digress.) As she was sitting there, she said, "This is so funny. Anytime I sit down to grade papers, I start thinking about something else I'd rather be doing, like vacuuming. Only, I know that if I had to vacuum, I would think of something else better to do, like read."

I don't know about you, but I operate on this exact same level. I often fantasize about how much uninterrupted housework I could get done if my kids were gone, but once they aren't around, I do not want to spend my time cleaning the house. I'd much rather read or nap or go to the store by myself.

This is what I call "the grass is greener" syndrome. Anytime I am faced with a task I don't want to do, I think of something I'd rather do instead...so, about 40 percent of the time, I wander on over to a different task, and the other 60 percent I push through and finish whatever I am in the middle of. It's a blessing and a curse.

The curse part is obvious--operating this way is clearly a very inefficient way to get anything done.

You have to dig a little deeper for the blessing part.

As I was putting laundry away today, (a very un-fun task for a fun girl like me) I looked up at the shelves in my closet and thought how much I wished I could get them better organized, and how much I wished I were doing that instead of the task at hand. And then the wheels started turning, and I realized: the only reason I wanted to get at those closet shelves was because they were different than what I was doing right then. If I had set out to do some closet cleaning in the first place, surely I would have thought of a better alternative, like taking out the trash or wiping off the bathroom counters. And it sort of made me think about how many things I get done because they sound better than the thing I am doing at a given moment. There are actually specific jobs that I only get done when I'm bored with something else, like rotating bins of the girls' clothes (when I'm in the middle of putting laundry away), or cleaning out my kitchen cupboards (when I'm in the middle of emptying the dishwasher), or sorting pantry items (when I'm in the middle of putting away groceries), just to name a few. It's a good thing I never set out to do these tasks, because if I did, they would never actually get finished; instead, I have to wander into them when I'm supposed to be doing something else.

So, there you have it. As inefficient as it is to wrecklessly abandon certain tasks in order to start doing something completely unrelated, at least I know that there are a few things that have to be done that way, otherwise they don't get done at all.

And that's the strange, hidden blessing.

Meet Lincoln

This is Lincoln. He's my sister Cyndie's little guy. I love him. Like crazy. We got to hang out a lot over New Year's, but now, sadly he's back home in Utah, and I'm missing him a lot. He is such a fun, happy little guy, the one that puts the chill in chillax. He is all smiles, all the time. (Unless you are eating ice cream and not giving him any. Then he panics a little. Okay, a lot.)

For those of you who have not been fortunate enough to meet this happy, chunky boy (and for those of you have) please enjoy a tiny photo journey of his visit with us. One glimpse at that winning smile and those golden locks, and you'll know exactly why I miss him so much. All 31 glorious pounds of him.

Oh, baby, what's not to love?

Toothless Wonder

Julia just lost her third tooth yesterday morning (it popped out while Craig was helping her brush her teeth) and I realized that I forgot to document the first two tooth losses. Here they are in all their gummy glory.

Tooth # 1 lost on May 20, 2010

Tooth # 2 lost on June 13, 2010

Tooth # 3 lost on January 19, 2011

Mommy thinks that the Daddy Tooth Fairy is a little too generous, though...when I suggested a dollar for this recent loss, (4 times the amount that I ever got as a kid...more than enough to keep up with inflation) I should have known that he'd actually put two dollars there. (Welcome to trying to find the parenting balance between a Mommy who was raised with four other siblings, and a Daddy who was an only child.)

 Next time I'll suggest 50 cents.

Is This What it Feels Like??

It is not at all uncommon in our family for Mommy to have her nose stuck in a book. I love reading, have always loved it, and, in motivated, spirited spurts, I do it as much as I can.

Craig, sweet honey that he is, is many things. But a reader he is not. Try as I have over the years to introduce a book to him that I think he will love, he has always dismissed the idea without much consideration. (The main argument? "Reading is work. It is not relaxing. It is not fun.")

Imagine my astonishment, then, when we went to California this weekend and he had his nose stuck in a book the whole time. This was a book about finances that my sister got him...apparently I have been offering him the wrong material altogether. From start to finish, this kiddo has wanted to do nothing but read. Shocked is an understatement for my reaction.

I love that he is suddenly reading. I really do. But is this what it feels like to be on the other end of that book? I have a feeling that this will take some adjusting on my part. You see, I am used to being the ignorer, not the ignored. I am the one who zones out, pretending to be a part of a conversation when really I actually care only minimally about what is being said. I am the one who brings books to the dinner table. I am the one who leaves the room to take a shower, only to be caught red-handed twenty minutes later, still unshowered, with the water running and a book in my hands. What if it turns out there is another, just like me? I don't know if we can manage the household with two zoned-out adults. I suppose time will tell.

While we were getting ready to leave Laura's house in California last night, we paused for a minute to talk about what a great time we'd had. "I can't believe how nice this has been, I said." Craig replied, "I can't believe how much I got to read."  "Wow," I responded. "I cannot believe you just said that.

This is definitely new territory for me.

Pure Joy

I love the feelings that this image invokes: freedom, happiness, innocence. Such a perfect moment of sunshine and wonder. Smile on, little girl, make it last; life just gets more complicated from here on out.

Hoarding: The Sport of the Future

You may have heard of a new show on A & E called "Hoarders." As fascinating as it is disturbing, this show is not for the faint of heart. Each episode showcases two individuals with a serious hoarding issue. Some of the people are food hoarders, others hoard junk. Either way, none of these folks can throw anything away, and often times it gets to the point where they are sacrificing their own health as well as family relationships just because they feel a need to hold on to their stuff.

Not unlike my low tolerance for horror movies, this show is pretty difficult to watch. (I will admit, though, that it also has a classic train-wreck effect: as horrifying as it is, it is extremely difficult to take your eyes off the carnage.) And since we're on the subject of horror movies, I must point out that the scary subject matter also has me yelling at the screen in a manner one would expect from a tense audience during a Freddy Krueger movie; only, instead of cries of "Don't go in there! He's behind the door!" I hear myself saying things like "Ugh! Just throw it away! It's GARBAGE!"

But, for all its disgustingness, I will say that the program does serve a purpose, other than shocking and offending the nation's most sensitive stomachs: It makes you want to clean like never before. Craig and I watched a couple episodes last Sunday, and despite the fact that we finished after midnight and had to get up relatively early the next morning, we both went downstairs, and without saying a word to each other, started cleaning. I'm not just talking pick-up-the-toys cleaning, either. This was a serious endeavor, going through cupboards and drawers, trashing unused items and putting things aside that needed to be donated. In the true spirit of our unplanned joint venture, Craig made me get rid of a bunch of jars in the kitchen cupboard that I was saving just in case I ever needed them, and I started bugging him about the George Foreman grill that we never use that he just can't quite let go of. It was pure, unadulterated, purging bliss, brought on by nothing more than A&E's desire to exploit one of the strangest neuroses our fine country has to offer: having too much dang crap.

So, what traumatizes you into cleaning like a mad-person?

Christmas at the Monsons

Our Christmas was truly wonderful, full of good food, good late night talks, and lots of visits from family. On Christmas Day, we did our Santa and family gifts in the morning, took a break for delicious brunch and naps, and then went back to opening grandparent presents in the early evening. The celebration literally lasted all day, which was especially nice...the girls do well with the "play as you go" Christmas plan. Here is a quick recap of some highlights.

The candy trail! When my sister was here for Christmas with her family last year, we adopted their tradition of leaving a candy trail from the girls' room to their Santa presents. It takes a lot of candy to get all the way downstairs, but the girls loved it last year so this might be a new Monson family tradition as well.

All ready to go with their Easter baskets to gather the goods.

Vanna's candy trail led to her Santa gift, a washer and dryer set
that Santa's top elf (a.k.a. Daddy) stayed up until 5 in the morning to finish. (Kindly disregard the sawdust on the floor.)

Julia's sawdust laden candy trail took her to her Santa gift,
a new telescope so she can look at the stars with Santa's top elf.

The girls were so excited about this...after all, pretending to do

laundry is much funner than actually doing it.

Even Lex got in on the fun.

This one from Aunt La & Aunt Amy was a big hit.
Vanna loves this movie like crazy.

Julia got an art kit from La & Amy and
got her creative juices flowing right away.

The girls got robes and bath pillows...

...and of course, the beloved pillow pets.

 This bad boy had been on the Christmas list since June.
Thanks, Grandma Linda!

Vanna got a more user-friendly (plush) bank

that actually squeals when you put money in.

Lex was a little confused about what we wanted
her to do, but she was a good sport.

                                                

Such a wonderful time was had by all.

Best. Present. Ever.

Okay, so before I give you a detailed account of all of our Christmas festivities (which were delightful, amazing, and brimming with blessings) I must take a moment to highlight the most awesome gift of the year. (For me, that is. I don't remember what the kids got.)

In the weeks before Christmas, Craig was diligently working away on the computer, doing a secret project for me. I had no idea what it was, but we had a running joke that he was putting together a portrait of me from tiny little pictures of our girls, a la Disneyland's 50th Anniversary. (I tell you, being clueless does have its perks sometimes, 'cause I sure love a good surprise.) Naturally, my curiosity was piqued as the days went by and he started slamming his laptop shut any time I walked near him. And, try as I may, I could not get that sly fox (and I mean fox) to drop any helpful hints. I was even banned from our online credit card statement for the last few days of December because there was a transaction there that was sure to ruin the surprise. (Pure torture, I tell you. How the heck else was I supposed to stare at our credit card balance for hours at a time and will it to go back down?) 

So, I was forced to wait patiently (and by "patiently," I mean not patiently at all) until December 25 to find out what all the weeks of secrecy were all about. And then I had to open all my other presents first. (Have I mentioned torture already?) Imagine my joy and shock when I opened this little gem: two years of my blog. In a book. Printed, published, and tied with a bow.

Look at that happy girl. She wasn't quite sure what she was getting into when she married her handsome, computer-literate husband who also happens to be a little sneaky. It sure paid off, though.

Did I already say best present ever?