No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

Wow...can't believe it's been 3 months since I've posted on here! I've had so many things to post about, but life has been a bit crazy, and my mind is failing me at the moment...so, I'm posting a very random story today (because lets be honest, when am I not random?)...

Before I tell this story, let it be known that I do NOT condone the behavior that I am about share with you in any way. Especially if you are my children. Or the young women in my ward. Don't say I didn't warn you.

It was my senior year of high school and a friend and I had been hanging out one evening. It was nearing midnight, so we decided to head back to his house. We happen to have a few eggs in our car. Of the unboiled sort. (You know where this is going, right?) So, we decided to use them. On a passing vehicle. (Read: Bad idea. Don't try this at home. Or in your car.) So, as the next oncoming car approached, we threw an egg, hitting the car right in the middle of the windshield.

We looked in our rear-view mirror and saw the car flip around and start coming after us.

So, we decided to one-up it. We too flipped around and just as we were passing the car, we again threw an egg. And again hit the car right on the windshield.

Again we saw the car flip around and start pursuing us. And again we flipped our car around. Except we had no eggs left. We did, however, happen to have a carton of milk. So, we threw that at the car. And nailed it.

After that we decided we'd better book it to my friend's house so we wouldn't be late for curfew (Because we apparently were trying to make some good choices??). We pulled into the driveway right on time.

And then another car pulled in right behind us.

With eggs and milk all over it.

And his dad stepped out of the car.

So, after a long day of helping to take care of 6 children (currently at my sister's since she just had a new baby...) I received a phone call from Izak's school. I thought about not answering, but figured, if his school is calling at 8pm, it must be important. And boy was it ever! I am soooo glad I didn't miss this vital-to-my-life information. Here was the message I received:

"Hello. This is your Principal. That's principal with a p-a-l, not p-l-e. We recently sent out a newsletter before we had the chance to edit it. We apologize for spelling "Principal" with a p-l-e instead of a p-a-l. A good reminder to check our spelling before we send out any information. And please remind your children to check their spelling as well. Thank you. Have a good day."

Phew! I was VERY concerned when I received that newsletter and have been stewing for days as to what I should do about this catastrophe.

I will sleep well for the first time in days. Thank you Ms. Principle Principal!

I swear I use to be Cool...

So, before I share my most recent experience at my awesomeness in social situations, here are some explanatory details....

I work with the children at our church, which is called primary.
When we're assigned to a certain program within the church, it's called a "calling".
We have a "bishop" which is like a pastor, who extends these "callings".

Okay...here is my conversation this past Sunday at church...

Primary President: So, I was talking to the bishop and he said he was thinking of calling Sue to work with us in the primary. I can't remember her last name though.
Me: Was it Sue Sylvester?
Primary President: No, that wasn't it.
Me: Are you sure??! That name sounds really familiar.
Primary President: Umm, Kate, that's because she's from Glee.

See what you all are missing by not hanging out with me more? Even the dumbest of you (Lets not get into who that would be.) would feel smart when you're with me. It's one of my many, many talents.

C-Sections

Okay, all I have to say is I don't know why anyone would CHOOSE to have a c-section (other than for medical reasons, of course). I mean, considering how nauseous you get, to the point of having to lay down completely flat on your back during the operation... And then, after all is said and done, the fact that you have to be taken out of the operation room in a wheelchair.... it sounds awful to me. And if it's that hard on the (student) doctor, I can only imagine how hard it is for the patient.

What? What's that you say? How is Dave's OB/GYN rotation going? I promised him I would not divulge any embarrassing details on this blog, so you'll have to ask him personally. No, really, please ask him.

Thinking of You

Call me crazy but I've got this rule. The rule is that if I've lived in a place for over two years, any mail that comes (for the previous owners) in my mailbox, now belongs to me. I don't care whose name is on it. So, you'd better believe that today when I checked my mailbox and there was a hand written card (for the previous owners), I was so excited! A card, no matter whose name is on the envelope, is exciting. Right? Right? So, I opened it. And like most hand written cards, it did not disappoint. Here it is....

And this is what was written on the inside (took a picture, but it didn't turn out)....

"Missed seeing you at church. Hope you both are doing better. Jenny & Debbie"

I did mention that we've lived here over two years, right? I can just imagine their conversation now....

Debbie: Hey Jenny, you know who I haven't seen in 2 years a few weeks?

Jenny: Who Debbie?

Debbie: Gertrude and George.

Jenny: You're absolutely right Debbie! They haven't been here in 2 years a couple of weeks have they? I wonder if they're okay.

Debbie: I remember that 2 years a few weeks ago they were feeling a little under the weather, I hope they're doing better.

Jenny: Hey, I have an idea! Lets send them a card to let them know we're thinking of them and hope they're doing better.

Debbie: Ingenious Jenny!

So, a few weeks ago our washing machine broke. Broke in that our laundry room was flooded with water. E.V.E.R.Y.W.H.E.R.E. Dave and I, being the handy-people we are, called to have someone come look at it and get a quote.

The guy showed up. Looked for a few minutes and informed us that the sealant was cracked and needed to be replaced. 15 minutes of work=$160.

We decided to get a second opinion.

The next guy showed up. Looked at it for a few seconds and informed us that a mosquito must have peed on the floor. Kill the mosquito=$0. We went with the second opinion. (Whose name happens to be Izak.)

Izak right before he pounced on the guilty mosquito

(Protecting himself (if you know what I mean) and others from temper tantrum-throwing moms)

I could see what was coming. A big, huge, fat, ugly melt down. I decided the best thing to be done would be to get the guilty party to go lay down and take a nap quickly before the volcano erupted that was beginning to boil inside.

So, that is exactly what I did.

I marched my grumpy, fit-throwing self straight to my bedroom.

Laid down on my bed.

And closed my eyes.

At 10:30 in the morning.

A few minutes later I heard little feet shuffling into my room. "I tired too Mommy." And Landon slipped himself into the sleeping bag that has permanently taken up residence next to my bed.

An hour and a half later Izak comes into the room. "Mommy, can I be all done with quiet time?" I look at the clock. 12:15pm. I tell Izak to go get ready for preschool. "Preschool?! At night?! I don't have preschool at night!"

(Because "normally" nap time is closely followed by dinner time which is closely followed by bed time. Except for times such as these. You know, when I'm about to freakishly freak out on my children for just being children.)

Me=Awesomeness

I was in such a hurry to get the kids in the car after soccer practice so Dave and I could get to our separate church meetings. It's always such an ordeal....have to pack up the dinner we ate while watching Izak's practice, pack up the toys to entertain the other three children (2 that we babysit) during practice, and pack all the children into the car.

By the time I actually pull out of the parking spot I feel like I deserve an award for making it out of there with all my children in one piece without yelling at everyone (I didn't say I don't yell, I said I don't yell at everyone-did you catch that?).

So, you can imagine how helpful it was when, while I'm loading all our crap stuff, and a lady in a car waiting starts getting all impatient asking if I'm going to leave soon.

I politely inform her that I am leaving soon, but that it's going to take a little while.

She then proceeds to raise her voice explaining that she's holding up traffic waiting for me to leave.

And then I explain that I have four children that I am trying to get into the car and that she is welcome to either wait until I'm done loading everyone/everything, or she is welcome to move on and look for another spot.

At that point all I hear is "RUDE, RUDE, RUDE....blah, blah, blah (seriously, I couldn't tell what she was saying. Thankfully.)..." So, I just turned away and continued trying to load my children into the car.

And then a friend of mine walked up and said, "Hey, is that lady yelling at you cause she wants you to close the passenger door so she can get into that spot next to you?" And then I look over. And sure enough, the spot next to me is empty. And the door is wide open.

Yep. I'm awesome like that.

Real Women Change Shocks

It was the beginning of another hot, windy, dry day on the farm. I looked at my watch. Barely 9am, though we had already been working for a while now; if you can call laying in the fields working. My two sisters and I decided to go sit in the truck for a while. We noticed my brother had left the keys in the ignition. I tried to convince my older sister to drive, but she was smarter than me, and refused.

It was the summer of my 14th birthday. I quickly got behind the wheel and after a few attempts (it was a standrad), the truck was moving. As I looked in the rear-view mirror, I saw my brother yelling and running towards us. I found the gas pedal quickly. And so we were off.

My sisters and I were crammed like sardines into the little white pick-up; flying over the bumps on the dirt/rock roads of the farm. The fields stretched on for miles. And so we rode on for a few more minutes.

As I drove the truck up the pivot road I saw my brother coming towards us. I slammed on the brakes just before hitting the white cement at the base of the pivot. As soon as the engine was turned off, we flung open the doors, and ran as fast as we could for the potato field. Once we were a little distance off, we quickly layed down in between the rows and rows of potatoes in hopes my brother couldn't find/see us.

No sooner had we layed down than we found we were being attacked by dirt clods. Huge, sometimes rocky, always hard, dirt clods. One after another. Landing within feet of where we were laying. In the distance we could hear my brother yelling about our stupidity for taking the truck and how we were going to get it when dad found out. And then, finally, there was silence. The bombing of dirt clods had ceased....

My dad did find out. He said that I went so fast and hard over so many bumps on the dirt road that I ruined the shocks.

My consequence: to change the shocks in the truck.

I'll Never Know

The question just keeps haunting me....

Why?

Why did he forget....

That he was loved by me and so many others.

Why didn't he remembered what he himself wrote to me...

"I know that Jesus Chirst lives and is our Redeemer"?

Why didn't he understand that there is always hope...

That anything can change if we but make it happen?

Why wouldn't he respond these past few months....

When I would email him to see how he was doing?

And I just keep thinking....

I wish.

I wish I could hug him just one last time....

And remind him that he was one of my very dearest friends.

I wish I could help him see the person I saw....

Who was such an amazing person in so many ways.

I wish he had the understanding and hope that I have....

That anything we are not content with in our lives, we have the power to change.

But he is gone.

And I will forever miss him.

I Like Big Butts and I Cannot Lie...

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$600

Translation: Dave sat on our laptop and it cost lots of moolah to fix it.