Whose your grandma

Vanessa from V & Co. turned 36 years old today! I only know that because she posted it on her blog, not because we're such good friends that I know when her birthday is and have been invited to celebrate the day with her. But one can always wish. Anywho, she was lamenting the fact that she's over the 30-something hump and getting old.

I know how she feels. I'm teetering on the 40-something hump and although most days I don't feel old, my looks don't reflect the way I feel. That's depressing. It's hard coming out of denial. I suppose it's like coming out of a coma. One day you wake up and say..."how did I get here?"

I woke this morning
My back was sore,
I rolled out of bed
It was quite the chore.

Then to the bathroom
To do my thing,
Stripped off my clothes,
Gave them a fling.

Stepped on the scale
To check my weight;
Afraid to look down
The truth I can’t take.

I weigh as much now
As I did back when
I was nine months pregnant
With Chelsea Breann.

The sad thing is,
I look it too;
My belly pokes out
Like I’m 5 months due.

I step in the shower
To wash my hair,
Leave a clump in the drain,
More than should be there.

Then to the mirror
I cautiously peek;
I see the wrinkles
Start to creep.

They start at the corners
Of my baggy eyes
And stretch down my face
That I start to despise.

I see a few hairs
That look out of place;
They’re not on my head,
They’re on my face.

I would be proud
Of the moustache I’ve got,
If I were sixteen
And my name was Scott.

The fuzz on my chin
Turns thick as it grows;
At least it matches
All the hair in my nose.

Oh don’t you worry
I’m not sasquatch yet,
My eyebrows are thinning
The older I get.

And the hair on my head

that I keep there with spray;
what doesn’t fall out
simply turns to gray.

And just when I think
I’m looking too old,
A pimple appears
For all to behold.

I turn to my closet
To get myself dressed,
Nothing fits anymore,
I’m further depressed.

My wardrobe has changed
From short sleeves and skirts
To mid calf capris
And long flowing shirts.

I use them to hide
My flabby body;
And if I fail to wave back,
I’m not being snotty.

Just trying to keep
The arm fat from flapping;
But what do you do
‘bout rubbing thighs chapping?

I sit down for breakfast,
To a big bowl of bran;
Make sure I’m still living,
Give the obit’s a quick scan.

My eyes turn fuzzy
As I start to read.
I wear bifocals now,
Had to finally concede.

Then I go to work
In my yellow sports car.
It’s the cure for my crisis,
But not working so far.

I get a few glances
From curious guys,
Through my tinted windows
I see hopeful eyes.

They must think a hottie
Would drive such a thing,
As they hope to invoke
A flirtatious fling.

I can see their faces
As they slowly inch
To get a close look,
Then suddenly flinch.

I make it to work
My humility intact;
I’m the oldest one there,
It’s a depressing fact.

I’m technology challenged,
Just ask my kids;
“Do what in Excel?”
Oh, heaven forbid.

i-pads and blackberries,
i-phones and kindle;
i-pod and apps,
my confidence dwindles.

I barely just learned
How to send a text;
The message, however,
leaves even me perplexed.

Reality sucks.
I’m not young anymore.
I stopped feeling perky
And now I’m just sore.

My hair’s gray, my eyes bad,
I’ve got middle age spread;
I’m sagging and dragging
My tired self to bed.

But then my grandbaby
Comes over to play;
And I’m young again,
Hip-hip-hooray!

And even after we
Play on the floor,
And I can’t get up
Cuz my body’s sore.

I still wouldn’t go back
To the age of my prime,
Cuz I wouldn’t be a grandma
And that would be a crime.

I'm Back

Did you even know I was gone? Yup, I went AWOL (absent with out leaving).

I don't know why i've been away so long. It couldn't have anything to do with Trey's fall ball and sitting on the hard cold bleachers twice a week in August and September. Or the fact that I've been officially made the un-official family photographer and have recently taken pictures for my nieces bridal/engagements/wedding, my daughter Kayla's Folk Dance Team photographer, and taken family pictures of my sisters Susie's family. Not to mention my own brood at our annual Gardner Village Pumpkin patch. It's been fun, but let's just say I have a whole new appreciation for what my cousin Faun does. Literally, hours go into taking an ordinary picture and trying to turn it into a work of art. She does it much better; i'm just a faunwannabe.

Perhaps my absence could be traced to my sewing room, where a certain Christmas Countdown quilt hangs over the chair, waiting to be bound. Sewing takes up valuable blogging time.

You could be wondering why I haven't been blogging about those things; afterall, most bloggers put their pictures, their quilts, their hobbies online for all to see. Some of those people make tutorials and gain followers and fan clubs. They make lots of money with their creative ideas.
It's a shame, really. I have no one to blame but myself...and my daughter (chelsea), not to point fingers or anything.

You see, a couple of months ago, my daughter was over at the house, using my computer. She said she wanted to show me something I might like. So she pulled up a little website, and to my delight...pictures of all things good and lovely, crafty and yummy, holiday galore and creative decor burst onto my screen! It was like I had died and gone to homemaker heaven.

That was the beginning of the end. It seems everytime I had a few minutes to spare and would sit down to blog something, I would say to myself, "I'll just take a quick peek while I'm thinking of something to blog about". Hours later I would find myself waking from my blissful craft induced coma and realize time has slipped away, my blog didn't write itself, and it's now much too late in the evening to stuff my lazy butt into my spandex and walk a mile on the treadmill.

And it's not just my blog that has suffered, my waistline is showing proof that sitting all day in front of a computer at work, and then sitting all evening behind the sewing machine/computer doesn't help. My future size 6 wanna-be has met her achielles heel. It's not chocolate or Dr. Pepper that keeps those skinny jeans untouched in the back of the closet; nor is it the hours of endless facebooking that I've prided myself on not getting attached too. It's not the comfy couch in front of Survivor, So You Think You Can Dance or NCIS.

It's a one-word website.

My future poet/childrens book author/someday i'll be as famous as cjane blogger has become almost extinct! All creative juices that used to flow to my fingertips, now rest on the mouse as they repeatedly click re-pin, re-pin, over and over again. It's addicting I tell you!


That was 2 months ago. I've been AWOL ever since.

I've been lost in holiday wreaths, mummy cookies and pumpkin decor;

Crock pot dinners, t-shirt scarves and tips for chores.

Beautiful pictures of faraway places, perfect kids and adoring love;

Exercise tips, make-up tricks and quotes from above.

Christmas goodies, neighbor gifts and homemade cards;

Twinkly lights, garlands on mantels and snow covered yards.

Romantic hints, hair-do styles and chic outfits;

Painted walls, painted toes and lots of glitz.

Do you want to know the name of my doom? My achielles heel? My productive downfall? In one word:

Pinterest.

It comes from the Greek word PIN; (meaning to immobolize) TE; (meaning me) REST; (meaning a state of inaction).

Perfect word for what it is.

I don't care, it's a wonderful sight.

But if you go there...beware. It will snare you. It will hook you.

(Disclaimer: The author takes no responsibility for children left unattended, families going hungry or dinners burnt; homework being left undone, husbands rejected, housework neglected. Exercise and scripture study out the window.)

Don't say I didn't warn you.

8th grade woes

It's official...it's fall! According to my calendar, as soon as the kids march back to school, the fall season has begun. Don't you love the smell of fall? Freshly sharpened pencils and crayons, never before stained socks and shirts. Binders and paper. Even new backpacks smell good the first day. (Give it a week till the gym clothes need their first washing and they come home shoved in the pack with a weeks worth of papers and candy wrappers.)

Trey started 8th grade today.

Wow. I can remember when I was in 8th grade. I had my first crush with the new kid in our school. He was a rich kid who showered me with gifts, and I'm not talking about 'my sister was cleaning out her junk drawer and doesn't want this fingernail polish anymore, so I thought you might like it' kind of gift. He gave me a tigers-eye ring and a gold herringbone necklace.

Unfortunately our whirlwind 3 month crush ended with the school year, and his lack of attention left me feeling hurt and rejected. My friend helped me compose a 'don't let the door hit you on your way out' type of letter that sounded like a pathetic country song; full of mean and sarcastic remarks. I felt better getting it out of my system and would have been fine leaving it at that, but my friend thought he needed to know how he had done me wrong, so I parted with my ring and necklace to show him how serious I was, and she delivered it to him in person, while I stayed behind and tried to justify what I had just done.

I never talked to him again. The next year we would pass each other in the halls like two ships passing in the night; aware of the others presence, but never speaking. It was awkward. I felt bad. My 13 year old self didn't have the courage or the words to right the wrong.

I never had the desire to go back in time and relive those awkward teenage years, but if given the chance, I would. If for no other reason than to go back and do things differently. I would never have written a hateful letter, I have regretted it ever since and still feel shame over my actions. I would go back and tell my 13 year old self to accept it for what it was; an exciting spring of twitterpation. And most important, I certainly never would have given back the ring and necklace. What was I thinking? Gold is worth a lot of money!

So, what advice do I have for my 8th grader?

Don't get a girlfriend. We are emotional and much too immature to handle boy problems at that age. (Sixteen isn't much better...or 18...or 45)

If a girl says something mean to you one day, and smiles at you the next, that means she's sorry and would really like to be your friend again, she's just to shy to say it.

If a girl breaks your heart, just know her heart is probably breaking too.

And for heavens sake, there is nothing wrong with fingernail polish. Girls that age love it!

Justin & Emilee

My beautiful niece is getting married next weekend. Since my sister knows I love to take pictures, but most likely because I'm related to the most amazing photographer, faundimages, and hopes some of it will rub off on me, she's asked me to be the official photographer. Scary...and fun. Here are a few of my favorites.

Dear Paisley

I'm going to carry on a tradition that started 22 years ago when Chelsea turned 1 years old. She was the first grandchild in my family, and her dear grandma, (my mom) wrote her a sweet letter expressing her love to her. Since none of my other kids received the same letter when they turned 1, I can assume Chelsea was the only recepient of such a letter. I think I can keep that type of tradition, the one that only happens once. I realize I'm a few days early, but this grandma is busy and won't have a single minute to spare on tuesday to sit down and write a letter. So here's a little early birthday present.

Dear Paisley,

I like to imagine that a year ago as your mom was making preparations to give birth to you, you were preparing as well. I can imagine you, sitting at the feet of our Heavenly parents, receiving final instructions about your life here on earth. I'm sure you were anxious and excited to begin your long awaited journey to come to earth to finally receive a body and be with your mother and father who were just as excited and anxious as you.

I'd like to think you were forwarned about the evil conditions that exist in the world, but were given hope when you were told how you were one of the strong and valiant ones; saved for this day because you are able to overcome the temptations and be a force for good in the world. I'm sure you were told that you were coming down to live with goodly parents; a mother and a father who were righteous and would teach you everything you needed to know to return again to His presence someday. I'm sure there were hugs and well wishes by your younger siblings as they watched you pave the way for them.

And then, the miracle we had all been waiting for happened. On July 26th, you were born and I became a Grandma! What a blessing you have been in my life! Being a grandma means I can feed you chocolate ice-cream, and not care that the sugar will keep you up all night. It means when you come over while your mom and dad are at work, I can play with you and take you on outings, because I know I can always get the housework done after you've left. Being a grandma means I don't have to discipline, or put on my angry face, or tell you 'no'. Being a grandma means I can take you to the library and check out childrens books again, oh how i've missed reading them. It means I can go to the park, or sit in the kiddy pool. It means I can blow bubbles, and shop at Carter's.

But do you know what being a Grandma means the most to me Paisley? It means that the love I felt for your mother, is the same love I feel for you. It is the strongest, most protective and pure love anyone can feel. It's not the same love I feel for grandpa, or my friends or siblings, or even my own parents; it's a special love reserved for our children, and yes, our grandchildren too. I'm so happy to know it's the same kind of love. It's one that you won't understand until you have a baby of your own someday. And when that day comes, and I'm sure it will come all too soon, I hope you will remember the love you feel, is how much you were, and still are loved, by me.

Love,

Grandma

P.S. to your mother Chelsea...the tradition has now been handed down to you. I wonder how we'll be writing letters 22 years from now?

Family vacation

You may have noticed my lack of blogging lately. It's not that I don't have anything to blog about, it's because I've been doing so much to blog about that I don't have time to blog about it. I read a good article in the Ensign that summed it up this way: "Near the end of his life, one father looked back on how he had spent his time on earth. An acclaimed, respected author of numerous scholarly works, he said, 'I wish I had written one less book and taken my children fishing more often.'

I guess I could sum up my past month by saying, 'I'm glad I didn't write any blogs this month because I've been busy spending time with my family.' That doesn't sound nearly as eloquant though. I guess I won't ever have to worry about others quoting me.

I'm not sure if at this point I try to catch up on all the things I've been doing this summer, or just move forward. Let's just say, as I've sat on my warm cement porch with a bowl of cold ice-cream, watching the sun set and the kids play, I've often thought to myself..."I could be blogging right now", but I chose instead to enjoy the moment. Summer nights go way too fast. All too soon the kids will be back in school, the nights will get shorter and cooler, and warm cement and lingering sunsets will be replaced with a chill in the air and long dark nights with plenty time to lounge in the basement, blogging about how short the summers are.

But I've found a little quiet time this evening and thought I would do something I love.

Technically, I'm still on vacation. After spending 3 days camping with the family, coming home to unpack, do laundry and clean the house that didn't get done before I left, I realized this is not my idea of a vacation.

So, i'm kicking back in my comfy leather chair to blog. I love to blog, and since this is my vacation, i'm going to do something I enjoy doing. Not that camping wasn't enjoyable, other than the mosquitos, it was relaxing and wonderful, it's just all the before and after stuff that comes with it.

As I downloaded the pictures I took these past couple of days, I realized I didn't take near as many as I should have. There are several people I didn't get any pictures of...how did that happen?! I'm a little annoyed with myself and feel like we need a do-over.

I didn't get any pictures of Trey trying to get up on the wake-board for his first time, or Wendy showing all the young'uns how it's done, even though it was her first time as well.

I didn't get any pictures of Kayla getting up on the wind-surfer, and down, and up again, and down. Eventually the wind was just right and she went too far for my camera to reach, if only I had tried.

I didn't get any pictures of my Dad's swollen arm. The one he refuses to admit is broken, or fractured, or at the very least, very sprained. Believe it or not, he didn't get it while skiing, or wind-surfing, or wake-boarding, which I'm sure he would have done all those things, had he not hurt his arm. Let's just blame it on old age, poor footing and poor eye-sight. They say that's the first to go.

I didn't get any pictures of my mom at the beach, laughing hysterically when she asked my dad a question and he couldn't hear her (hearing is the second thing to go). So he tried to get up off the ground, but because of his hurt arm, he couldn't quite push himself up. He must have reminded her of a potato bug who tries to roll himself off of his back, his little legs kicking in the air, but not getting anywhere. My dad has never acted his age, and is never helpless, so to see him in that situation must have looked silly to my mom. She laughed herself to tears.

I didn't get any pictures of Cindy as she was describing during our late night campfire game of 2 truths and a lie, her truthfully admitting to throwing her daughter Sarah into the lake while she was trying to help her throw in her fishing line, and casted her instead. She was also laughing hysterically, as were we all. Everyone but Sarah that is.

I didn't get any pictures of Luke and JP and Megan and Sarah, playing peek-a-boo with Paisley and keeping her entertained all week. They were so cute with her, and she just loves them all!

I didn't get any pictures of my daughters' impersonation of a triceratop. For some reasons, the mosquito's took a liking to their foreheads, and both of them had bumps that looked like they had the makings of a good set of horns. I guess I was too busy doing the mosquito dance to stop and take pictures of everyone else swatting, slapping, dodging, smashing, itching and going stark crazy mad.

However, I did get pictures of...

Trey posing in front of Cascade Springs.

Amber, hiding from the mosquito's.

The family enjoying the beauties of the mountains.

Paisley, having fun at Deer Creek.

Wendy, introducing Paisley to chocolate marshmallows.

Even though i'm a little sad by the lack of frogs in the pictures, or kids in kayak's, or fish dangling from poles, we still had a great time. The most important things were accomplished. Love, laughter, and strengthening family ties.

Dang, we forgot the smores. Now we definitely need a do-over.

Church Cryers

One of the downsides to blogging, is trying to think of interesting things to blog about. Which is why it's been so long since my last one. Unless you find sitting in the cold in the middle of June, huddled in coats and blankets to watch Trey play ball interesting, there hasn't been much to blog about. So I'm forced to revert back to my memory bank of 'Funny things that happen to other people.'

(Just so you don't think I'm completely mean-spirited, I did ask for permission before sharing this story.)

If you recall from a few posts back, my cousin had a public meltdown. Yes, this is the same cousin who has a hard time keeping friends, on the account that they all move away, not because she's a lousy friend, cuz she's not. Just wanted to clarify.

It happened while attending a Relief Society function where she sat down to a lovely dinner

with her sweet friend Diane. During the course of the meal, her friend let slip those dreaded words..."I'm moving."

I believe everyone has their own breaking point; the straw that breaks the camels back, so to speak. This was Faun's, it was just too much. She LOST IT, in front of EVERYONE. She started to cry, and couldn't stop. Everyone was looking at her, wondering who just died. She so desperately just wanted to go home, cause we all know it's impossible to have a good cry in public. It's just too hard to force down a sob. Diane and Faun's mom convinced her to stay so she would't miss the speaker, but she wasn't too keen on the idea of parading through the cultural hall with her swollen eyes and drippy nose to reach the chapel. So her and Diane snuck out through the other door, walked around the church in hurricane force winds, and upon reaching the back doors of the chapel, found them locked! Tugging and pulling at the doors not only got one persons attention, it got everyones attention! And as someone opened the door to let them in, all heads were turned and eyes glued on the person who was making all the noise. There she stood, in all her "bawl boobing, red-eyed, snot dripping glory!" What a way to make an entrance. Quoting one of her favorite phrases, "Poor little lamb".

Did I ever tell you about the time I was crying in the church? I mean the other time? It was during sacrament meeting. I was not feeling well, and was not looking forward to flying out that evening to do a training in Las Vegas the next morning. To top it off, it was Chelsea's birthday that day, and I was feeling sorry that I couldn't stay for her birthday dinner. After the closing song and prayer, I didn't want anyone to see me in my red splotchy faced condition, so I stayed in my seat, wishing I was invisible. Chelsea came over, and upon seeing my face, asked "Why are you crying?" So I let her in on my little pity party, and before I knew it, she was crying. I didn't realize she was so sensitive to her mother's feelings, so I asked her, "Now why are you crying?" In which she replied..."I'm pregnant!" Now she's crying and I'm smiling! It turned out to be a wonderful day afterall.

By the way, that's pretty much the way it happened the second time too. Just not at church.