Houston, We have LIFT OFF!

And it couldn't be any cuter.

Oliver started to try and walk at 8 months old, and now at 10 months is really gotten it down pat. He's not so good with getting up on his own (still uses furniture a lot of the time) but he's cruising around and bravely walking without holding on.

My goodness is he proud. The grin the boy wears as he trots like a monkey cannot be replicated. He gets up on his little fat feet, raises his hands in the air and GOES!

As I watch him, I am just in awe. This little dude is a BABY and yet, he is so fixedly determined that it takes my breath away. Nothing can deter him. NOTHING. He falls down, he gets up again. He bonks his brains, (he does that a lot) he cries, I cuddle and he's off again. He runs into obstacles and SCREAMS at them until his loving parents/brothers move him or it so he is free to move again.

He goes and goes and goes.

Isn't it amazing?

It has renewed my faith. I know, weird, right? But it's true. Jesus asked that we become as little children. Not in the "fit throwing, pants pooping" way but in the "innocent, believing, meek" way. And watching my little man  tramp all over has reminded me WHY. Oliver doesn't ever think, "I can't do this." or "It's too hard." He just tries over and over and over again. Never does he declare that he's done, that he'd prefer to be a quadruped for the rest of eternity. Nope. It has never once occurred to him that learning to walk might not be worth it. Oliver is not afraid to work for what he wants.

Wow.

I need to learn how to walk all over again. I need to be more determined, more fixed on my goals. It is worth it. It's ALWAYS worth it.

See Morgan

See Morgan contribute. (CLICK on the link)

Go Morgan Go!

See Morgan's readers go over to MMB and leave comments.

Go Morgan's readers, GO!

P.S. That beautiful picture on the MMB post, while lovely is NOT the one I submitted. I sent them one of Spencer in his tightie whities. Apparently, they didn't want to put that out in the blogosphere. Oh well.

I disagree

with teething. Friday night/Saturday morning was NOT pretty at our house. SO much drooling and crying.  Oliver would fall asleep for an hour, then scream/cry for two hours. On again, off again. As soon as I would drift off to sleep, I'd be awakened by a piercing cry and much screaming.

Screaming and crying was our theme for the night.

At 6am, I was at the end of my rope. I'm sure you're wondering why I didn't make Derek take a shift or two.Well, he's a good husband, and he would have done it if I'd asked, but Oliver kept sporadicly nursing, and we all know how much use Derek is in that kind of situation.

Anyway. So at 6am I was DONE. So was my poor baby. I loaded him up and started driving. I drove and drove and drove. The sun rise was lovely by the way. And I drove and drove and drove and ended up at McDonald's. No idea how that happened.

Can I just say a bacon/egg/cheese biscuit and a Diet Coke taste fantastic at 6:14 am? DELICIOUS.

And then when the rest of the world woke up, we went and got teething tablets. I love them.

Because now I love my baby again.

Teething blows.

TGIF!!!!

It is almost the weekend!!!! And on a normal basis, here at our house, that means NOTHING since I ususally work weekends, and when I don't Derek does.

But this weekend??? We're having A WEEKEND! No work, family in town fun fun fun!!!!!

And in the spirit of fun, we're hoping to avoid any trips to the ER, and any other types of injury/illness/accident.  We may or may not be successful.

Wish us luck!!!!

An Unveiling

So, after griping about a need for niche I started looking through old archives and things I had written for other projects, advice from my sister (THANKS ERIN!) and with a little nudge from a friend (THANKS JAUNA!), I give you:

You're welcome. (Click on the can!)

Caution.

If you choose to dump an entire brand new box of cereal all over my living room carpet you WILL be vacuuming it up.

I don't CARE if you're two years old. I don't care if the vacuum is BIGGER THAN YOU.

You're cleaning it up.

You've been warned.

Identity Crisis

I'm having one.

About my blog.

So, Derek and I were talking tonight about why it would be a good idea for us to use my blog as a "job" and  make a bajillion dollars off of it. Then he could easily not stress about jobs and money and all that jazz.

Trouble is... I'm not so much with the "monetize-ing" of my here blog. Sure I'm rockin' the google ad words and all that jazz, but seriously??? Come on.

Ad words is not the issue.

The issue is: My niche (pronounced Nitch of course).

What is it?

People who  make a living off their blogs have to have the corner on a market of some kind or another.

For example: Cjane and Nienie have the "Mormon Mommy" niche down pat. (Well, if we're gonna get really technical, NieNie has the niche on being inspiring and amazing.)

I'm not really a cook, therefore a cooking blog ala my good friends Kate and Sara would be out of the question. (Although I might have success with a "cooking wrecks" blog... except sometimes things I make turn out fine. DANG IT!)

Fashion? TAKEN! (And we all know I'm like a fashionista... wait.)
I have recently stumbled across a MOST impressive crunchy Mormon Mommy. I am in love with her.

My blogger-buddy Amy has the humor down to an art. I mean like TEARS whilst reading because it's so so funny.

 I even ran into a MMB (Mormon Mommy Blog) that has claimed the niche of "Taking pictures of what we eat (cheeseburgers) and of our cute puppy." Awesome. Young, married, unchildren-ed girl making a fortune off her blog. She has over 3,000 followers. About eating out, and her puppy. And I love it!!! I am slowly reading her blog like a book. RIDICULOUS!

And while I thoroughly enjoy my own narcissistic variation of the theme of "Mormon Mommy blogger" it's just not going to make me a million bucks.

I ADORE my blog. I clicky-click away on a frequent basis because I find solace in it. I love to write about the ridiculousness that is parenthood, the gospel, my home, my life.

But writing about MYSELF is NOT A NICHE. (or it is, but it's already taken.)

And by-jiggery I NEED A NICHE.

Cuz Derek really wants to quit his job.

What I want.

This is post is vague, and has no specifics. Just be aware, life is fluid, things are changing, and Derek and I are trying to make wise choices because of it. 


Choices, regardless of the why or the reason, are painful. I have heard people say, "Oh but be grateful you have the choices to make!!!" Okay, fine. I'm glad and all.

Except when I don't really like any of my choices. I feel a bit like my children, when I offer "Peanut butter and Jelly" or "Turkey sandwich" and Henry replies, "McDonalds". Sorry Dude, that is NOT an option.

So I'm all jumping around, begging for what I want. PLEASE, Heavenly Father, let us go to (proverbial) MikeyDees! PLEASE!

And He, in His ever kind, gentle, and all-knowing ways tells me, so nicely, "No sweet child. That is NOT an option. You can have peanut butter and jelly or turkey. Now choose." (He tends to leave off the "or I'll choose for you", that I am ever so famous for uttering.)

And I must think that our Father, who created me, and loves me more than I can fathom (even as a parent myself) must be far more patient than I, because when I stomp my foot, and complain and whine and say, "But I'm tired, but I don't want to, why can't you do it for me?" He doesn't even sigh, or get snippy. He just ever-so-kindly waits for me to get my act together and quit acting like a baby.

And isn't it lovely? To know that all the while, among all my complaining and begging for divine help, He's happy to provide it. We've just got to ask.

So, I'm asking. And asking. And complaining. And wishing. And asking.

And He's there. Always there.

Did you know?

Apparently, I'm "crafty."

Yup, it's true.

Now, in the interest of full disclosure, I'm not so good with looking at a pile of "crafting" materials and magically seeing what their potential is. HA! Not at all.

But, I am an awfully good copy cat. If I want something I find on the internets, or wherever, unless it involves power tools (which I don't own), I can figure out a version that is cheaper.

Case and point: These very cute little boy watches. My boys love watches because Daddy has a watch. (Mommy has been through many watches over the years and is now resigned to using the clock on her cell phone.) But I wasn't interested in spending the $8.50 a piece on them.  Plus,I had everything I needed at home.

And while mine are NOT as well done or as cute, they took an hour from start to finish (for 2!) and the boys are in LOVE.

From February 2010

So there, I'm crafty.

It's all in an effort to save money, live more simply and basically. It's a part of our NYR (remember, food vs edible crap?).We're finding that SO much of what we want/need is actually just "edible" crap. Things we CAN use because we have them, but not things we MUST use.

And no, felt watches are not something we NEEDED, but the fact that I was able to thrill my lil' dudes for free is pretty great, in my opinion.

Now, I'm off to craft peanut butter and jelly sandwiches... at least the bread is homemade. :)

Warning: Pessimism in the post

Perhaps "pessimism" isn't the right word. Maybe just "really bad attitude" would be better. But where's the alliteration in that???

Know what is the worst?
Using dishes out of the dishwasher, rather than emptying it quickly (seriously it takes like three minutes) only to realize at the end of the day that the dishes were never clean in the first place. (Although, I am patting myself on the back for my extremely good dish-rinsing.)

What else?
Shopping carts all over the parking lot. It bothers me, a lot. Put yerdang cart back! (If you, dear friend, are guilty of NOT returning your cart to the cart corral, please know I still love you. And I forgive you....) It is SO irritating to find a fantastic parking spot, only to have my hopes dashed by a stinking cart blocking it. Like I'm going to park my car in the middle of the parking lot, get out, move your act of laziness and then park there. PLEASE! I'm too lazy. I'll just find somewhere else to park, and be peeved.

More? 
Thinking a Tuesday is a Monday. That's not fun. And I've been in "Monday" mode all day. It is Tuesday right?

Finally?
A little boy who is FABULOUS about #1ing in the potty, but who is horrifically unsuccessful at #2ing. It's yucky.

But since I am not a generally grumpy person, shall I end on a high note? (OF COURSE!)
Life is beautiful. It's warm out, we have a cupboard full of food, dishes to eat off of, it is NOT Monday, and Spencer rocks the potty. And Oliver is officially "sleeping through the night."

And in the way of a Post Script (Who doesn't love a good P.S.?)
 Henry is learning about dinosaurs, and came to me yesterday with tears in his sweet eyes and asked, "Mommy, WHY did all the dinosaurs die?" Tragic and adorable.