ELF (and That's Not Will Ferrell, Folks!)

I hate the word diet.
I am obsessed with the bathroom scale.

Why is it that when the number moves below where it normally rests, I automatically have a great day?
Why is it that when it rests a little too high, I immediately feel fat?
Why is it that when the scale changes from its customary 0 to the next 9 below, it feels like such a victory, when it's only just a pound?

I am only 3-4 pounds away from the goal I set to achieve before the wedding and still nursing. I've NEVER been able to lose my baby weight while nursing before. Never really cared this much before(there are wedding pictures involved, after all!). That goal weight is still about ten pounds above where I was last year at this time, but that number is completely unattainable while lactating. But I'm okay carrying a little more up top, if you know what I mean.
This is my new strategy for the next nine weeks (EEK!--nine weeks?) until Heidi's day--ELF ME.
Sunday evening I overheard a friend talking about her brother's miraculous loss of 80 pounds (EIGHTY POUNDS!). He had adopted a diet of his own creation--the ELF diet--Eat Less Food. It sounds so simple, and it really is. He just evaluates how much he would have eaten before his diet, and automatically eat half. Easy! I can do that, I think. And I added something for ME--Move Extra. I'll go up the stairs myself instead of sending the kids. I'll walk quickly through the house or parking lot or store. I'll chase my little boys and dance to Broadway show tunes with my big boys. I'll shoot hoops with Lily, and I'll walk my baby when she's fussy. Sniff--I can't return to my running since my hip is still injured, but I'll do what I can just living.

Sounds simple. Sounds like it just might work.
Care to join me?
I welcome all comers! Good luck, and I'll keep you posted (you know I will!).

28-Day Organizing Challenge and a Plea

I've never been one to back down from a challenge.
Maybe that's one reason I got into that girl fight back in eighth grade--it ws worth it to lose a clumpful of hair to prove my grit.
Now, in 2010, I'm accepting a different challenge. Organizing Junkie is sponsoring a contest for the month of February to organize a space. For those regular followers of my blog, you know that organizing is my drug of choice. But, those same regular followers know that I'm also in the midst of planning a wedding. And those two things have come together to create the perfect storm--piles and piles of stuff in my library.
I just redid my family room (see this post for part of the results). But when I did, I lost a bookshelf and tons of storage. So, where did all the tchotchkes, books, and games end up? Piled in the library, of course.
I can't believe I'm posting this. Quite embarrassing, my friends.
Does anyone else find this picture hilarious? I found this little gem buried behind my kids' books. It was so helpful there!Can you believe all the books? Combine Brad's law school keepers, my history texts, my penchant for purchasing any cool art history book I can find, Brad's minor in English, all of our Church books, children's books for every age, and two older boys that read books like breathing air, this room had gotten all out of kilter and out of control.Notice the broken drawer front below. Ah, Hyrum, my little love. That drawer houses the paper and crayons. It gets a little bit of use, I tell you.
I fully recognize that I am very spoiled to have a room in my house dedicated to books. But . . . it's time to bring back some order, don't you think? Wish me luck!

And here is my heartfelt plea:
If there is anyone here who could spare a morning to show me how to create an address file for my wedding addresses, I'd be forever in your debt. I've tried on three separate occasions, and I can't seem to get the file to work or to save or to retrieve. And that's a lot of time spent for nothing, my friends. Plus, I'm ordering invitations this week. Help me!

And for today's "Things-I'd-never-thought-I'd-utter-before-I-was-a-mom" quote:
(uttered dripping wet just as I'd gotten out of the shower) "Thank you for asking me to wipe your bum!"

Mr. Incredible (Finally!) Levels the Field

image from here

This is a story of two families:
Eleven years ago (Once upon a time, a long time ago, before cell phones and email . . .do you remember that far back?), these two families each had three children, girls that were in second grade, boys that were in first grade, and boys that were toddlers. These two families also had moms that were best friends who not only enjoyed park time and scrapbook Fridays, but they also enjoyed a little time to themselves. So a swap was arranged--Jen would take the kids all day (8:30-4:30) one day during the week, and Karen would take another day. It was a fantastic arrangement for all--kids got play dates with their best friends and moms got a whole day of freedom--for FREE.

It was all going swimmingly. And had for a few years, without any complaint or complication. Until the oldest child, Miss Brenn, turned eight years old and began Achievement Days after school. She was most excited to leave school with "the big girls" and walk straight to the Clays' house for fun and creativity. Unfortunately, Ken (aka Mr. Incredible for some unknown reason), neglected to get the information to me.

Three of the kids made it to my house after school, but there was no Brenn. Heidi told me that she couldn't find Brenn after school, even after looking for some time. The walk home from school took about 25 minutes anyway, so by the time they'd reached our house, Brenn had been missing for half an hour. I jumped into the car (a 1989 Dodge Colt Vista, if you remember those!), sped to the school and looked for her. And looked for her. She was nowhere to be found. I called Karen's house, but she wasn't due home for at least a half-hour, and I don't think I had Ken's work number. I was in a complete panic by this time, and so were all the kids. I was leaving the school and just as I was about to call the police, 45 minutes since school had dismissed, Karen drove into her driveway. How do you tell your best friend that you've lost her kid? She could see the panic in my face, I'm sure, as I told her that her daughter was gone. She became a little worried, but she said that she'd go into the house and call Ken at work to make sure he didn't know where she was. Lucky thing, or the whole Missing Children's Department of the City of Mesa would have descended on our neighborhood. She called, explained the situation, and he nonchalantly said, "Oh yeah. They called this morning before school, and Brenn is at Achievement Days."
Is that all?
All these years later, and Karen still reminds Ken that he owes me big for that one. Even though he has called me "Octo-Mom" (in a good way, he says), and insists that I am older than he is because every childbirth ages a woman five years (I'm doing pretty well for a woman of eighty, don't you think?), that debt has hung in the air.

Until Saturday night.
You see, Saturday night Lily had her cast party for "Twelve Dancing Princesses." Brad was flying home from visiting his mom (still in the air), Tucker was at a friend's house, and Ben was home with the three little kids. Instead of taking my reliable Suburban, I decided to take Brad's little Audi TT, just for fun. And it ended up not being so fun. I mistook a designer cobblestone curb for more street, you see, and I hit it in that little Audi TT going about 40 mph. Guess what? Audi TT tires POP at forty mph when they hit a curb. And they lose all their rubber. And they stink. And they even sometimes get their rims dented from the impact. I'm just sayin'.
What could I do? It was me and Lily, 9 pm, no husband. And it's a GERMAN car. I've actually changed my Suburban's tire (not to mention that my Chevy could have handled just such a situation easily), but this car . . . . no way. So who do I call? I dial Karen's house, Ken answers the phone, and I ask for Karen (who was thumb-deep in Mario). She, as always, drops what she's doing, piles herself and Ken in their truck and they come to rescue us. The situation was slightly complicated by the fact that I had a baby at home that any moment was going to realize that her belly was empty and that her mom was not around.
So, not only did Ken stay at the stranded car, Karen brought me and Lily home so I could tend to Eve. I did feel a little better that Ken had a hard time figuring out that cursed GERMAN car, too. Something about plastic lug nut covers and special tweezers to remove them . . . I don't know. I put it all out of my head as soon as I was cuddled up with my sweet daughter. Brad landed and was able to explain to Ken how the crazy vehicle could be rendered operable again. And Ken, Mr. Incredible himself, drove it back, safe and sound, to our garage.

Ken has promised to never let me lose one of his kids again.
Wish I could promise to never blow a tire again.
Now, we're even.
Thanks.
And you can check out Karen's blog here.

My Guys

Sweet dreams, gentlemen!

Foto Friday--How Do I Love Thee . . .

Just a little sampling of what our house is like any given day after school (bear with me, I'm trying a new photo program, and I'm still new at it):
Lily cramming in homework before she heads to a play performance, Hyrum lazing about watching Micah, who is playing Wii, Ben begrudgingly practicing the piano, Tucker refusing to have his photo taken but making his customary huge-ongus sandwich before heading off to tutor (note the giant mess on the counter--I was in the process of cleaning out the fridge), and Evie chilling on the couch looking mighty small. I just love them so much!

And as a side note, Heidi was complaining that there were no good pictures of her and Sam on the blog. So here's a darling one, along with this: One of the reasons I'm beginning to love Sam (besides his love for my Heidi): he loves Havarti, just like me. You can bet there will be some waiting for him when they come home later this month!

Family Room Redo, Part 1

Wedding, wedding, wedding. You're never far from my mind.

Four years ago, Brad's sister Katie got married, and we hosted her reception at our house. From that day on, I VOWED that I would never do that for one of my own children. I was a beast, and so stressed out that I knew that if it were my own child, I couldn't enjoy the day.

Fast-forward to November 2009: Heidi calls a very volatile mom, two weeks post-partum (do I need to explain that in detail?), sharing with me the news that she's getting married. Oh, and I'd love to have the reception at home, she adds hopefully.
Even on my post-partum roller coaster, even crying two to ten times a day, even then I knew I couldn't remain true to my vow. Heidi is not a demanding creature in any way, so how could I refuse her one sincere request? Didn't, that's how. (Later, Brad told me that he'd confided in Heidi that the bride always gets what she wants. Luckily, she hasn't wanted a week's trip to Hawaii or Swarovski crystal centerpieces, because he's right.)

So, not only have I been focusing on planning a wedding reception and dressing dozens of people and feeding hundreds of people and housing a few to boot, I've had to seriously analyze my house and see what needs to be done before April 13th. The last two weeks I've been rearranging my family room, painting over Hyrum's artwork, washing furniture covers, deciding what should stay and what should go. Most of the changes have been easy. Like I always say, if a decision can't be made in 10 seconds, it's probably not worth the change. (That personal philosophy has come back to bite me only a few times, but when it bites, it removes chunks of flesh.)

Some of these improvements have been a little harder to execute than others. Let me share this one:

I love to decorate and redecorate and change my house. Tucker laments this quirk every time he's asked to move and re-move furniture to see how it looks "over there." I had a vision of what I wanted the family room to look like, and I had a great idea looming in my brain. It consisted of random frames and constructing an abstract artwork to place above the TV. Brad, ever the cynic, discouraged me from attempting this project, saying, "Do you know how hard that would be?" Even as I surrendered my dream, my friend Kelly was living it! And she posted her creation yesterday. You can see it here. Isn't she great?

So, after abandoning my original idea, another formed in my head--one involving a display shelf and three open cubes beneath that could be used to rotate seasonal or holiday tchotchkes. The shelf was easy--74" Lack shelf from IKEA (IKEA, oh how I love thee!). The cubes, now that seemed impossible. After a failed attempt, I took some stuff back to the store and then made my way to Hobby Lobby (Hobby Lobby, oh how I love thee!). I wandered aisle after aisle, trying to bring my vision to life, with no success. Then I found three storage boxes, and my wheels began turning--these could work! And work they did! Brad mounted them to the wall, and they were exactly what I'd had in mind.
Now to find something to fill their 7 7/8" by 11 3/4" space. That's where the real challenge came. Who knew that would be such a chore? I wandered Target (Target, oh how I truly love thee above all others!) and came up empty. But on the way home, we passed JoAnn's and decided on one last-ditch effort. We were about ready to wave the white flag of surrender when the dollar bargain bins caught Brad's eye. And we found the solution in the most unlikely of places--three green and white striped spray bottles for 97 cents each. With the nozzle removed, they make perfect vases! Now, over to the flower section, and one stem of orange gerbera daisies, and we had it--feng shui, yin and yang, balance, perfection!--all three display boxes filled for $5!

What do you think? Here's the whole effect. I'm so happy. Not as creative or resourceful as Kelly, but it's great. Now, all I'm waiting for is the chairs, and this room's wedding-ready.What did you say? The wedding is outside? Well, you can see the family room through the back windows, right? And there might be someone who has an emergency bathroom issue, right?

Define "Indecent Exposure"

My house is crazy regularly. But yesterday was extraordinarily chaotic.

Combine these elements in your mind, if you will:
Industrial fans were blowing, attempting to dry out flooded carpet in the basement--again.
Vacuum was running.
Dishwasher repairman was desperately trying to rid my appliance of foreign matter.
Dog was barking from her kennel (Roxie does not enjoy unfamiliar men in her domain).
Hyrum was discovered hiding in a corner, defecating; then we moved to the bathroom for a little "positive parenting."
Baby Eve was almost patiently waiting for Mom to find a moment to feed her.

Ding dong.
Dish satellite TV man, here to fix all our viewing difficulties, just in time for the Super Bowl and the Olympics. YAY!

I sent him in the right direction, then I exclaimed with delight at the now-functioning and indispensable dish "sanitizer." Vacuum turned off, paper signed, Randy the repairman left. I returned to my demanding children--clean Diego underpants, clean pants, all check.
Poor Baby Eve, she tried to be good, but her little tummy needed to be filled.
Hmmm. Where's Sergio, the dependable Dish dude? He's outside, evaluating the satellite's alignment or some crazy thing. I'm sure he'll be out there a while, so I found my favorite seat on the couch and got ready to nurse my baby. Happy sounds. I love those happy sounds and kneading fists.

Disclaimer here: I'm not the most modest person on earth when I nurse my babies. Having done this seven times eight hundred or so feedings, I find modesty a bit invasive. I want to look at my darling daughter and smile and laugh while she eats. Call me selfish. It's not like I'm Rose on Titanic, or anything. But all the cover-ups and blankets and "hooter hiders" are inconvenient and a pain.
But, since there was a strange guy roaming the property, I did grab a small receiving blanket and not uncarefully I covered up a little.
Just as we were settling in with Hyrum by my side, the front door opened and in sauntered Sergio, papers and instructions in hand, heading directly for us. What to do?
Well, what can you do? I just sat there as he asked me to sign here, and here, and here, and initial here. And do I have any questions?

Yes, just one. "You don't have any kids, do you?"
No, why?
Just wondering.
Clueless, that guy. But now I can watch David Bromstad in HD.