In My Personal Hell...

I have this folder (a real folder, not a computer "folder") that is labeled "funny stuff." It's full of, you guessed it, stuff that I think is funny. Stories, pictures, comics, cards...basically anything that makes me laugh. I keep it around for days when I could use a dose of funny.

And so it happened that a few days before Christmas, I was filing away a story that I first read in Mrs. Griffiths' 9th grade English class. A couple of Far Side comics caught my eye:

So I guess the hell comics make me laugh. I had a little chuckle and then thought for a bit about what my own hell would be like.

A few days later, Cole and I were watching a show about a man who survived a bear attack on Animal Planet (which may not have been the best choice of shows for a six-year-old, but my parenting choices are not the subject of this post). One of the commercials was for another program the network and it hit me: "That is my hell." What was the show?

Before I tell you, you should know that I'm not really an animal person. Especially pets. I hate cats. Dogs scare me, even my own. Pets stink. Dog hair in my food? Gag. I don't mind wild animals, but I have this firm belief that animals belong outside, not in houses. Gross.

I also have this thing about large groups of animals. It's some kind of weird phobia or something. Flocks of birds. Herds of elk. Hills of ants. Schools of fish. Any large collection of animals requires supreme psychological strength for me to prevent hyperventilating. Strange, I know.

So, with that little background, may I introduce....


Just shoot me now. I am so never watching this show. I was shuddering all through the commercial. Cole and Floyd were cracking up. Such compassion.

I've thought of other things that would be found in my personal hell, but that's the first. Animal hoarders. **Shudder**

PS - Mom, may I remind you that no swearing was involved in writing this post. Hell is a place, just as a dam is a structure. Remember that dam tour we want to take?

10-Months

Another birthday---he just won't stop!

He took his first steps the other day. We clapped for him and then told him to stop and try again in April.

He can say the following things - mom, dad, Annie, no, more, and nummy (understandable mostly by us...). Still working on Cole.

He likes waving to people, but actually it's more of a salute.

He also really likes to clap his hands. We do a lot of cheering just to see him cheer with us.

He has 5 teeth, but isn't much of a biter. Luckily.

He loves the toilet. A lot. He has an innate radar for when somebody has left the door to a bathroom open.

Happy 10-months, Ben-a-boo. We sure love you.

Anyone know a good carpet cleaner?

She wanted to be "Pinkalicious." The resemblance is uncanny...

Field Trip Friday: Antarctica Edition

****Disclaimer: We did not actually go to Antarctica. Just in case you thought we hopped a plane from Punta Arenas or Christchurch. Although I hear this is a good time of year to visit.****

For our family school this week, we learned about Antarctica.

Fact: Antarctica is the driest place on earth. It receives an average of 2" of snow per year. It is also the coldest and windiest place on earth.

Because too many of the kindergarten kids are still trying to figure out how to count past 10 and the letters of the alphabet, Cole doesn't get much time to learn science or history or geography - any of the subjects he's interested in, so on our family school days (Wednesdays), we learn about those kinds of things.

Fact: On December 14, 1911, Roald Amundsen (Norway) became the first man to reach the South Pole (well, he and the rest of his team). A month later Robert Scott (England) and his team reached the South Pole. Sadly, he and the rest of his team were caught in terrible winter weather and all perished.

So on Wednesday, I enthralled the kids with stories of Antarctica, Cole taught us how to draw penguins, and using some of Cole's 4 billion plastic animals and an old white sheet, we set up Antarctica. For our weekly field trip, we went snowshoeing. Well...the kids actually rode in sleds while the adults pulled them. I guess we were like the sled dogs. We pretended like we were Antarctic explorers. Some of us are better pretenders (Katie, Cole, Annie) than others (Floyd, Ben).

Fact: Polar bears do not live in Antarctica. Penguins do not live at the North Pole. Yet somehow, writers of children's books and makers of children's clothing always seem to get confused about this. Just a little personal pet peeve of mine I thought I would pass along.

For movie and popcorn night, we rented Eight Below. The kids liked it. And I like it because a few weeks before my Grandpa Johnson died, Cole and I went to his house to spend the afternoon and watched it with him. It's a special memory for me and if Cole remembers Grandpa Johnson, that's probably the only memory he'll ever have of him.

So, until we make it to the real Antarctica, the North Ogden divide, some hot cocoa, and a little Disney magic made a good substitute.

Tiny Dancer

Little Petunia loves to dance. Almost nightly, she drags her CD player down to the kitchen and makes us turn on some songs so she can dance around on the tile. It was no surprise that one of her favorite Christmas gifts was new tap shoes.

She has been asking me for the past few months when she gets to take dance. She is quite a persistent child - a quality that can be good (like when she's doing a puzzle) and can be bad.

Yesterday was her first day of dance class. She had a great time. I'm not sure if I'm ready for a lifetime of dance recitals and dance competitions, but I can handle a bunch of 3- and 4-year-old little girls giggling and dancing around the room.

Happy dancing, sweetie pie.

Brrrr...

In response to the age-old question, "would you rather freeze to death or die from heatstroke," I would like to go on record with my reply.

Heatstroke.

Cold hurts. A lot.

But at least it's pretty. So if I had to freeze to death, at least I would die surrounded by beauty.

Called to Serve

On New Year's Eve thirteen years ago, my husband packed his bags (well, hopefully he packed a few days early), drove to Provo, and started his mission. He didn't so much love the MTC - waaaaay too many rules for him. He has this thing about rules - if they don't make much sense, he breaks them just to prove a point. Not really a good match for the MTC. He was also blessed with his not-so-favorite companion in the MTC. Oh the stories! And the lines - that's his main memory of the MTC - endless lines.
Luckily, after a long two months, he headed across the Atlantic and spent the next 22 months in Germany. We don't have any German blood, but we sure love Germany around here. Like most missionaries, he loved the country and loved the people (well, most of them).
Also like most missionaries, he thinks about his mission pretty much every day and even though it was a long time ago, the memories and lessons he learned are very much a part of our life. Like the time the entire mission read the Book of Mormon in one day. Or the time the newspaper did an article about the missionaries. Or the time he met President Uchtdorf (who wasn't yet President Uchtdorf - 13 years, remember) and President Uchtdorf told him to put on his jacket. Or the time he asked his mission president to go fishing and his president told him "Elder, sometimes it's better to ask for forgiveness than to ask for permission." He didn't go fishing.
I didn't serve a mission. There was a time I thought I would, but life turned out a little differently for me. Both my mom's parents and dad's parents served missions after they retired. My Grandpa Max died while he and my Grandma Donna were serving their fourth mission together. She has since served a mission to Iowa and has been serving as a missionary on Temple Square for the past 9 or 10 years. So I tell myself someday...someday my husband and I will serve together. And then he starts speaking German at me so I can be ready and since I think German is a teensy bit harsh and ugly, I speak Spanish right back at him. We'll probably go to Russia.

Cole at the airport when Uncle Jake came home from Chile

When Cole turned 6 a few weeks ago, I realized that Floyd left 13 years ago and, if we play our cards right, Cole will leave in 13 years. I will miss him like crazy, but I sure hope he goes. And I think I better start praying for his companions and his president right now.


Also on the subject of missions...

My husband has a recurring dream that he has to go back on his mission. He really did love his mission, but it scares him every time. He has it so often that I even dreamed the other day that he had to go back. The only thing I remember from the dream is that I hoped he would mention me in his farewell talk.

Last year, we were driving around Hawaii with my parents and the subject of missionaries came up. Cole emphatically stated that he did not want to go. We all tried to talk them up and said that some missionaries even got to go to Hawaii. In a very teenager-like-voice, Cole stated, "still no." It's one of our favorite trip memories. Fortunately, his enthusiasm for missions has increased a little bit in the past year.