Almost a Cougar -

Jake got accepted to BYU!

He got his acceptance letter in the mail yesterday. Well, not like most people get accepted, but this is just as exciting. I think it's funny that he would never have been accepted as a student, but he's getting in as a teacher. Plus, he won't have all those student loans.

Now we will finally know what people are talking about.

"You know, that park, down by the Blahblah building?"

"You know, over by the mall on Blahblah street?"

"You know, like the food at Blahblah?"

Um, no.

I never know what they are talking about. I've never lived in Provo, but 99% of Mormons here assume I have. (Actually, I was born there, but we moved before I became a "real person".) Jake and I have always joked about being the left-outs. Everyone else "goes home to Utah" during the summer and comes back with tales of BYU football and bread from somewhere and tacos from another.

I can't wait.

Now I just need some recommendations of where I have to go and what we have to do when we get there.

That, and some bow-ties for "Brother Parker".

Never Again!

We're going crazy here.

I know that's the line I use in winter, but it's happening again. We've been stuck in the house because of bad weather and Penelope. It's too hot to take her out without turning her into a raisin.

Since we're never more than 10 feet away from each other, we've started being mean. Yelling, hitting, tripping, biting, and that's just me.

I decided to suck it up and drag them outside today.

I slathered them with sunblock, packed a lousy lunch (haven't been to the store. It's yucky outside, remember?), and headed to the beach.

As we got there, I almost said, "Forget it. Let's go home." The kids dragged me down to the sand.

It smelled like really low tide, 99% humidity, blazing sun, forgot the umbrella to put over Penny, Calvin hadn't napped, hungry kids because food ran out fast, swimming suit too tight from extra baby fat, grouchy because Jake's leaving for a week, forgot a chair or blanket to sit on, Calvin hates the water and heads for the parking lot every chance he gets, and baby was screaming. Searching for things to complain about, I was a giant black rain cloud.

Never Again. I vowed it over and over. Never Again. This is horrible. I should just stay inside all day every day.

As I sat there wallowing in misery, the mud, and low tide stench, the kids dug through our stash of beach toys and headed toward one of the little streams snaking across the sand bar. Amazingly, they all started working together to build a "pool" for Calvin. Kids started gathering from all over the beach, and suddenly, we had this:



Taken with my phone, and yes, Calvin's doing yoga.

I finally got Penny to sleep, laid her in the wagon, and rigged up a towel/tent to keep the sun off. Friends showed up, making the kids ecstatic, and giving Calvin a reason to stay near by (they had Taco Bell and he knew it.)

We stayed for over 3 hours. Unheard of with a 3 month old, a 19 month old run-away, and this crabby mother!

Finally, Penny got hungry and all the bottles were gone. As we packed it all in and headed for the showers, Tate actually thanked me for bringing them, Miles declared he wanted to live at the beach, and Lucy yelled, "This was the best day ever!" I know she says that every 4th or 5th day, but really, I love to hear it. It's like she's saying, "You didn't stink as a mother today. Congratulations."

Okay, so we might be going again.

Soon.

I write on my children with markers

Did you know that about me?

Whenever we're going to a "get lost" place like Disneyland, New York City, or the zoo, I write on my little kid's stomachs with Sharpie:

"If found, please call..." and then my cell phone #

I tell them if lost, to find a nice mommy with kids and lift up their shirt.

Yeah, that's just one of my many parenting pearls of wisdom.

Ooh, and another one:

If they step barefoot in dog poop while on the way home from the park (yes, we sometimes go for a walk barefoot), spray them with Lysol before hosing them off in the backyard.

See, I'm just full of this parenting gold.

Last week a sweet woman at church, who just adopted 3 girls all at once, asked me for advice. I'm pretty sure it wasn't because I seemed to have it all together. I think it must have been from the sheer numbers of car seats in my van.

I thought a minute.

"Advice? I barely know what I'm doing!", I thought.

The only thing I could come up with was this:

"Make sure your kids know they are more important than dinner."

She looked confused. I went on to explain that no matter what I'm doing, my children need to know they are more important than what it is I am doing. This doesn't mean I let them get whatever they want. It means if a child comes to me, crying that he's hurt, or she's sad, or he got locked in the closet by his brother, or he doesn't like church because his teacher won't let 4 year old's use the potty when they need to, or his feelings are hurt because Tate got mad for drawing on his homework, I can put down what I'm doing and help them.

We have had cereal for dinner and nobody died from it. We have skipped school and not gotten arrested. We have been late for church and are still allowed back. My kids know they can come to me for any reason.

I will listen, I will hug them, and I will love them.

Even if the dinner gets ruined.

Moving on. . .

We're like nomads. We wander. A few years here, a couple there.

We have been at home in 4 different states in the last 11 years.

Time for number 5.

Jake has a job offer in a faraway land and after 5 years here, we feel we've outgrown our surroundings. We haven't outgrown our friends, our neighbors, the City, the apple picking, the beach, the Fall colors, or the diversity of people.

We have, however, outgrown the one bathroom, the no dishwasher, the distance from family, and the cost of rent.

We took a little trip this weekend to look for a new home.

I left my 3 oldest with a friend. I hope after this I can still call her friend.

Never having spent a night away from my monkeys, I was a little nervous.

A lot nervous.



Apparently, by the picture on the mantel and the smiles on their faces, they had the time of their lives. Lucy gushed about her new friend, Sister Lizzy. Tate couldn't get over all the fun things you can do when Calvin and Penelope aren't around, and Miles was very quick to tell me not only can she cook crepes on a Sunday night like I do, she does it better than I do.

I'm glad.

We had a great time too. Grandma and Grandpa met us up there and helped juggle the babies.

Penelope got juggled quite a bit by Grandpa.



And Calvin, well he may have been juggled a bit too much since he spent a portion of the trip throwing up on Grandma. Food poisoning really interrupts a good house hunt.

Despite all the juggling and barfing, we found a house to call home. Cross your fingers for us.

As for where we're going, well, we'll give you a clue:



But not quite yet.

We still have some apple picking to do, some ocean to swim in, some friends to play with, some sites to visit, and some leaves to enjoy.

Oh, and I've got to get Lizzy to make me some crepes.

How a good brother should be.. .

C- "Ooh, a hole in the ground! There's gotta be something good down there."



C- "Oh yeah, look at all that good stuff that nobody else wanted. I gotta get some of that."



T- "Ooh Gross, Calvin, don't get in there. There's nothing but yucky stuff down there."



T- "Ooh, look at all that yucky stuff nobody else wanted."