Washed Out

January has come and gone... again. Oh and February too. Crazy. Every year I think that this is the year I am finally going to master the art of doing the laundry. Every year I fail. I always think of some innovative system or some new way of motivating myself or a way of making it faster somehow. So far, this year, I've gotten the laundry room completely organized with little color coded and labeled clean laundry baskets. Super. Getting the laundry into the clean laundry baskets is the easy part. I'm capable of running the laundry and last year I mastered the art of sorting it into the clean baskets but that's as far as it goes. We get clean clothes to wear out of those baskets and then put them in the dirty basket at the end of the day (or on the floor, no one's perfect). That's right. We live in wrinkly basket clothes all the time. My idea this year was to get the boys involved and have them be more responsible for their laundry, which has been a goal since the twins were three. Anyway, we had our first laundry success. All of the laundry got folded and put away in drawers and in closets. It was glorious. It was miraculous. It was short-lived. The next morning, Tobias was looking for some clean clothes to wear for the day. (He has strong opinions for a two-year-old about fashion.) He came to me, upset, because there were no clothes in his laundry basket. Excitedly I showed him all of his clothes were neatly folded in his drawers! In his room! Isn't that amazing?!? He looked confused but he picked out pants and a shirt and I helped him get dressed. Then, while I was cleaning up the breakfast dishes, I turned around to see Tobias with an armload of laundry marching into the laundry room. I followed him to find that he had already made several trips and had relocated all of his clean and folded clothes back to his laundry basket. After all, that is where they have been his entire life and so that is where they must belong. I feel like I have failed my son, like our house is some oddity in the fabric of civilization where people don't even know what drawers are for. (Mother, what these "drawers" of which you speak?) Yep, it's official. When it comes to laundry, I'm a wash-out. And don't even ask my children about the iron and ironing board. They'd probably tell you they're decorative objects. You know, like dressers.

Panjandrum

We love the library. We love that we can borrow books, for free no less, which means we don't have to buy all of the books that our boys want to read. This is good, because sometimes our boys pick real winners- the kind of books that we are relieved to take back. Recently, they brought home a book that was mystifying. It was old, it was odd and frankly made one wonder about the author and illustrator. It was titled The Great Panjandrum Himself.

Apparently, this book was designed as a test of mental well-being because the back cover claims that, "...no healthy-minded man, woman or child can look at [the illustrations] without laughing."

I'm afraid to admit that, for me, the illustrations and text caused more puzzlement than laughter. The complete text reads:
So she went into the garden to cut a cabbage-leaf to make an apple-pie; and at the same time a great she-bear, coming up the street, pops its head into the shop. "What! No soap?" So he died, and she very imprudently married the barber; and there were present the Picninnies, and the Joblillies, and the Garyulies, and the grand Panjandrum himself, with the little round button at top, and they all fell to playing the game of catch-as-catch-can till the gunpowder ran out at the heels of their boots.

So, now that you know the context of the pictures, are you ready to take the test? Remember, if you don't laugh when you see these pictures you should probably consult a psychologist.

Poor woman,This what my apple pies look like too. Her unfortunate baking is probably the reason she had to marry a man with such a very large, red nose. Also, using cabbage to bake an apple pie might not be the best idea.

This man has died from a lack of soap. I'm pretty sure this will eventually be the cause of death for one of our children. He hates bathing so much that I'm a little scared that we won't do it after he moves out of the house.

I love this phrase. Marrying a barber is absolutely imprudent. I mean, what if he uses your hair for practice and you are stuck with a flat-top, buzz cut, or, heaven forbid, a mullet? Also, is anyone else completely creeped out by the small smiling man-child-thing sitting on the gravestone?

This groom is so gifted at cutting that he is going to slice his wedding cake using a folded up piece of paper and a feather. Impressive. Maybe marrying him wasn't so imprudent.

Wow! Further proof of the groom's skills. He has just removed his right hand and grown a new one in it's place. Part man, part starfish that one.

This is, apparently, catch-as-catch-can. I'm not sure the details of the game but I am concerned that all of the men in the picture seem to have lecherous faces. This whole business seems a little risque for 1885.

Talk about cooling your heels. I love that the man is the one fanning himself in this picture. Also, keeping gunpowder in your boots, THAT seems imprudent. What if you explode?

Did you pass? No? That's okay. You know what they say, "A healthy mind is a boring mind," actually I think I just made that up. The point is... actually I'm not sure. The truth is, there is no point. It turns out that the text was, supposedly, written by British playwright Samuel Foote all the way back in 1754 to trip up some hot shot actor and orator named Charles Macklin who claimed that he could memorize any passage after just one reading. The story goes that Macklin was so indignant that he refused to repeat a word of it so we'll never know if he could have memorized it or not. Also, the oldest written copy of the verse that has been found so far was published in 1825 but by that time it was a well-known part of British culture so no one truly knows where it came from. At any rate, in 1885 Mr. Ralph Caldecott, of Caldecott medal fame, decided to illustrate this charming piece of nonsense and thus the library book. As it turned out, this was the last book that Caldecott would illustrate because he died the following year. So enamored were the Brits with the Great Panjandrum that they even named a WWII experimental explosive device after the fellow. It was a rocket propelled cart laden with explosives. It never saw battle because it's rocket-propelled wheels were just too unpredictable, but it certainly sounds exciting. You can see a modern-day mock up on youtube. You know, I've changed my mind about this book. Clearly, one can learn a lot from a bit of nonsense. I may not be healthy-minded but I am curious. Inquiring minds gotta know, even the Great Panjandrum Himself.

We're Off to See the Wizard!

The Wonderful Wizard of Oz!
Elijah and I got the opportunity to be in a community production of The Wizard of Oz. Elijah was a munchkin, a poppy, a citizen of the Emerald City and a winged monkey. I got to be a very large munchkin and the Guardian of the Gates. Also, as an adult, I got to be the backstage and on stage guardian of both Elijah and another little boy whose name we will change to Matthew to protect his privacy.

Elijah loved his munchkin mustache and chicken hat.

Anyway, the rehearsals were a bit of a trial but Elijah loved performing and so did Matthew. There were a million fast costume changes so my expert skills at wrangling clothing onto little boys at lightening speed was invaluable in this production. I also brought multiple electronic devices to make sure there was no talking backstage when it wasn't their turn to be hamming it up.
The production itself was not perfect, by any means, but there were a few shining moments. First, we had the most amazing scarecrow of all time. Truly. He could walk into any broadway production of the Wizard of Oz and win the part. He was a terrific physical and emotional actor and he was great with kids. He's single ladies!
Second, the scene where the witch calls her flying monkeys was worth the price of admission to experience. After we got the monkeys all suited up we sent them through tunnels underneath the auditorium so that they could come pouring in the auditorium doors and down the aisles when they were summoned. The kids really got into this and the sheer volume of monkey sounds while small bodies came leaping from nowhere made many of our smaller audience members cry. It was awesome. I got to see it during rehearsal and it made my hair stand on end. Elijah was a truly outstanding monkey.

This is my awesome Emerald City eye make-up. The first time I came home with it on, Tobias climbed up on my lap looked at face and said, "What the heck?!?"

Third, the set people built a really cool giant oz head puppet. The lighting and sound for that part was pretty incredible. It was way better to see it in person than in the movie.
So, we definitely had some things to be proud of. For my part, I was mostly there to support my kiddo and my roles were small and somewhat embarrassing at times but I threw myself into the performance so that it was fun. I liked being the Guardian of the Gate because I got to crack a few jokes but I was disappointed when they wouldn't let me have a gigantic green mustache like the guy in the movie. My friend and I had this idea that I would rip the mustache off and throw it into the audience later in the scene when we break into a calypso dance. There were three adult women who were citizens of Oz so they had us do a little dance front and center stage while we sang a song about the Emerald City. We felt a little bit like Vegas showgirls especially because the song contains the lines "We'll entertain you, make your dreams come true..." complete with shoulder movements and jazz hands. Oh yeah.
I have to say, though, the most memorable part of being the play was keeping tabs on those two boys. I had to make sure they were where they were supposed to be at all times, that they remembered and delivered their lines and that they didn't fall off the stage. It was harder than it sounds. Matthew had quite a few lines because he had an adorable delivery that just made you smile. During one performance, I noticed that he was edging away from our group of munchkins and that he kept putting his hand in his mouth. I started to worry that he was going to miss his cue for a line so I surreptitiously made my way over to him and tapped him on the shoulder. It was then that he turned to me pressed something small and wet into my hand and walked forward to deliver his line. When I looked down I saw that he had handed me the tooth he had just pulled out of his mouth. Awesome. And totally not gross. When we walked off stage after our scene he showed off his tooth to the lion, the scarecrow, Glinda and Dorothy. Best night ever in his opinion.

Elijah and I are munchkining it up. Love this kid.

I love that being in community theater brings together a diverse group of people and that it expands the people you know and interact with. I still run into college students and others from the productions I've done and it's fun to exchange a knowing smile and nod. I'm glad that Elijah got to experience the wonderful world of theater for the first time.

Wuv, Twu Wuv

Today we spent Valentine's Day in a very romantic way. We went to the temple and some saintly young women watched all of our children and then we ate dinner at... wait for it... McDonalds. With all five boys. Oh yeah. Since we are adorable and nerdy we both wore our Princess Bride themed woot shirts.

In case you don't have super vision and can't read our shirts, they are a true love flowcharts. The questions are:

Is it almost as good as mutton, lettuce and tomato sandwich? 

Can death stop it?

Is it a dweam wiffin a dweam?

If you answer incorrectly, you go to the bubble that says: I do not think it means what you think it means.

If you answer everything correctly you get all the way to: This is true love. You think this happens every day?

We say yes. True love can happen every day. Even at McDonalds. Even with five boys. Happy Valentine's Day.

My Funny Valentine

Our ward had a Valentine themed dinner and talent show. I decided to be brave and volunteer. So, I told a story about true love. I've written about most of these events before, but I thought it was good enough to repost. I got a lot of laughs, anyway. So, here is the closest approximation to what I said, but without my awesome gestures and faces. Sorry.

True Love

I'm not sure if this is a talent exactly but since this is a Valentine's activity I thought it would be appropriate to share a story about true love.

I've been told I have a talent for telling stories, but I think what people are really saying is that I have a talent for finding myself in odd situations which happen to make good stories. So, for those of you who know me well I apologize if you've heard this before.

I've been thinking about the concept of “true love”. There are a myriad of opinions about what constitutes true love and I've been taking a look at our relationship to see if we fit the mold. I haven't told Marc my conclusions yet, so he might be a little bit nervous right now.

I mean, if we are going by the definition, “Love means never having to say you're sorry,” then we are in really big trouble. We say “sorry” a lot. For Marc it's usually “Honey, I'm sorry I ate your secret stash of chocolate.” and for me it's more often, “Sorry that I left my shoes in the middle of the floor and you almost tripped and died.” Clearly, Marc has more to be sorry for than I do.

If we are going by the idea that True Love is marrying your best friend then we are also in trouble. If we are being loose with definitions, then Marc and I knew each other for a total of nine months before we got married. That might seem like a long time, but long enough for someone to be your best friend? I'm not sure. Let me break it down for you. During the first four months of our “relationship” I was under the impression that Marc was a nerd who came to my Honors Astronomy class at BYU every morning at 8 am with his girlfriend and wrecked all of the curves on the tests. I was right about everything except the “girlfriend” part. Turns out that was his sister.

In month five, Marc showed up in my Honors Biology class. I wasn't too pleased to see him, until it turned out he was the T.A. Fine. Coincidentally, this was also the first time I learned his name.

The following day we hit it off at a scholarship banquet at which he made the very bold move of asking someone to change seats so that he could sit by me at dinner. He had my attention. We had a great time, I hinted that I would like him to walk me home, he didn't get the hint and so I would spend the next two and half weeks wondering if he had just been pretending to be interested in me or if maybe he had gone back to that "girlfriend" from last semester. I ran into him all the time on campus. We would always chat and then I might say something like, “What are you doing for lunch?” and he would answer, “I'm going to go eat this frozen burrito. Bye.” I mean, I was a freshman with a Dining Plus card. I could have taken him to the Sky Room restaurant or something, but I'm sure that frozen burrito was way better. Yeah, not a hint-getter. He apparently thought I was also not a hint-getter because when he did finally ask me out on a date at the very end of month five, he described what we would be doing and then added, “It will be a date. Is that okay with you?” Roger that, AOK good buddy.

In the beginning of month six, we had been on four dates and decided that we were now “dating”. A week after that he asked me to marry him. Being eighteen and completely shocked by this idea, I didn't answer him until the next day. That was a little bit of an awkward phone call. The phone rang, he answered and I said, “Yes.” “Yes what?” “Yes, I want to marry you.” “Are you serious?” Yep, totally serious.

Three months later we were married. So, “best friends”? Probably not.

But what if we use the definition that true love is a total and complete trust? That true love means never doubting that you made the right decision. I wish I could say that we pass this test, and to be fair we probably would now, and if you would have asked me on the day we got married I would have said that I didn't have any doubts. Of course, that was before the arrest.

So, we got married in Utah on a beautiful day in May, we drove cross-country to my home in Ohio for a lovely open-house with my friends and in early June we were driving back to Utah so we would be home in time to start Summer Term.

In Indiana, we had a little bit of a delay. We got pulled over. This was confusing, because Marc wasn't really speeding, maybe 3 over at the most. So he pulled over, rolled down his window and waited for the cop. He didn't come. Instead, as we watched in our rearview mirror, more and more police cars were coming. Clearly, this cop had called for back-up. I looked at Marc, he looked a little scruffy. He hadn't shaved. I wasn't wearing any makeup and my hair was in a ponytail. Pretty much I looked exactly like I do now, only 13 years younger. Anyway, I didn't think we looked like hardened criminals but the cars just kept coming. There were now six police cars behind ours and I was starting to panic. Did they think we had drugs in our trunk? I hoped not because that trunk was packed with wedding gifts and if they opened it there would be an explosion of cutlery and towel sets all over the freeway.

At that point they drew their guns and started yelling instructions at us. For the first time, I felt some real empathy for the criminals on the show COPS. It is really embarrassing to be standing on the side of the road with your hands on your head.

I was too afraid to turn and look, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw several men grab Marc, slam him against the car, handcuff him and drag him away for questioning. That's when it hit me. I had married a convicted felon. I mean, he seemed like a nice guy, a perfect guy really but he must have a checkered past. I had heard crazy stories like this before, of someone leading a double life and I had fallen for it. I mean, I knew that I was innocent and the cops had no interest in the contents of our car, so what other explanation could there be?

As I stood there, in shock, a seventh police vehicle came screaming down the highway, did a one-eighty and stopped right in front of our car. The cop jumped out, ran over and dragged me away from the car. He asked me simple questions that I couldn't answer like, “What's your name?”

“Um, Sarah.... Jean.............. I can't remember my new last name! I just got married!”

“You got married.... to this guy? This guy is you husband?”

Yep. Definitely a convicted felon.

“Okay. How old are you?”

“Eighteen, no! Nineteen! I'm nineteen, I just had a birthday.”

“You just had a birthday?”

I'm sure he's thinking- this girl can't get her story straight.

Finally, they put me in a cruiser and someone sat down next to me to explain what was happening. They said that someone had called in a tip about a kidnapping out of Salt Lake. They thought I was a 14-year-old girl and that Marc had kidnapped me. We were able to sort it all out after I showed them my driver's license and they let us both go with profuse apologies. We later thought that we should have asked for a speeding immunity card or something. Anyway, I felt terrible that I had doubted my sweet husband and also that I looked disheveled enough that someone thought I was a kidnapping victim. I was so embarrassed of these panicked thoughts that I didn't tell Marc about them for ten years.

On our tenth anniversary, I said, “Remember when all of those policemen pulled us over in Indiana?” “Yeah...” “What were you thinking when all of that was happening? Did you think that I must have done something wrong or that I was leading a double life or something? I mean, we were still getting to know each other really.” “No, I knew there just must be some big mistake.” “Oh. Me too. I didn't think anything crazy about you either, except I did think that maybe you were a convicted felon leading a double life and you had tricked me into marrying you.”

I wasn't sure how that sentence would go over. I was worried he would be terribly hurt, but he just thought it was funny. He's forgiving like that.

The good news for us is, that William Shakespeare- world renowned expert on romance wrote that, “The course of True Love never did run smooth.” and we fit that definition perfectly.

Catching a Break...

...is harder than you think. For example, when this break happened, I didn't catch it.

My poor angel. No one would confess to being the one who broke it, but everyone wanted to claim to be the one to find the broken pieces and carefully place them on the shelf so they wouldn't get lost. It occurred to me that many things get broken when raising five boys and it isn't just physical objects. Sometimes little boys break rules or situations or preconceptions. Sometimes they break your heart. I'm sure that will happen a lot as they get older.

Terrible (almost!) Twos

I know it isn't Tobias' birthday yet, but I wanted to write down some things about the almost 2-year-old while they are on my mind.

Sometimes being almost terrible two is so exhausting you can't even make it all the way into bed.

Tobias is talking up a storm now, but he is often pretty hard to understand. He really favors his "b" and "p" sounds. You really have to pay attention to the vowels. For example, "bup" means cup, "boop" means boot and "buoop" mean book. (Random side note, why don't we have a way to write the unique vowel sound found in the words "book" and "look"? It is neither an "oo" nor an "u" sound. We need umlauts or something.)

This happened during a brief "time out" after a serious tantrum.

He is still a fruit addict. Two of his most frequent words are "bapple" and "nanana". Specifically, Tobias loves tropical fruits. He eats multiple bananas a day and I have seen him single-handedly eat an entire papaya. He loves mangoes, pineapple and fresh coconut.

This shirt is an actual x-ray of Tobias's chest. His esophagus and stomach are filled with candy.

I think he loves fruit so much because he has a sugar problem. The kid loves candy. He begs for "canny" a lot. He has stolen and eaten an entire bag of jellybeans. But when I say he has a sugar problem I don't just mean that he has a sweet tooth. I mean that I have come downstairs in the morning to find Tobias inside the baking cabinet and spooning sugar directly into his mouth from the sugar canister with a measuring spoon. I also found random piles of sugar in other places in my cabinets. Delightful.

He doesn't just open the fridge he climbs right in there. I'm pretty sure he's searching for tropical fruits.

In Tobias' constant quest for food, he often opens the refrigerator and freezer. He doesn't always close them. As a result, we often find a pool of water on the floor from melting freezer contents. I'm sure we will someday be replacing our entire wood floor. He's also broken our glass coffee table, destroyed several books and tried his best to lose our cell phones. We paid thousands of dollars in our efforts to get Gabriel, Elijah and David John here via expensive fertility treatments. Tobias came for free, so we figure he's just running up his tab as a toddler.

Here is our poor coffee table post Tobias. We still have the frame. I'm tempted to invite someone over and serve them a drink just to see if they set their glass down on the clear tabletop only to see it fall on the floor. Of course, that would get the carpet wet and possibly stained. Ah, what the heck. We'll just put the carpet cleaning on Tobias' tab.

Speaking of running, Tobias never just walks or runs anywhere. He gallops or hops. It's adorable.

Tobias loves to go outside. He says "hat" and pats his head, then runs around like a maniac. The minion hat is so appropriate.

He is a super active little guy in general. He climbs everything. Recently we went to the indoor pool with David John's and Benjamin's preschool class. Tobias tagged along. He got the whistle blown at him more than everyone else combined. *Tweeeeeeeeeet! Tobias is climbing on the pool railing. *Tweeeeeeeeeet! Tobias is climbing the pipes. *Tweeeeeeeeet! Tobias is climbing on the dividing wall between the kiddie pool and the deep end. *Tweeeeeeeet! Tobias is climbing up the water slide. *Tweeeeeet! Tobias is running by the edge of the pool. *Tweeeeeeet! Tobias is jumping into the water inappropriately from the side of the pool. I promise I was aware of what he was doing, the lifeguard's whistle was just faster than my arms reaching out to stop the illicit activity.

Yes, he is behind the glass in the skeet ball game. He is showing us that we are bad parents, also that we could cheat at skeet ball. (For the record, we did not have him cheat for us. We didn't need it. Both Elijah and I totally got a ball in the 10,000 point ring in the corner.)

Yeah, this kid keeps us on our toes. We took the boys to a fun restaurant and arcade place in Bismarck called "Space Aliens". We were having a great time until I realized that in the moment I had turned my head to watch David John doing the virtual jump rope game, Tobias had disappeared from the car racing game where he had been sitting and playing with the steering wheel. The arcade area wasn't very big, neither Marc nor I had seen him galloping past us but he must have gone somewhere. We frantically started scanning the area and Marc was just about to go search the restaurant when I shouted, "Found him!" He was hiding in plain sight.

He's naughty but he's so dang cute, especially when he's napping.

We love this boy and it's kind of sad that he just keeps growing up but it's so fun to see what he's going to do next. His almost two behavior is trying, but maybe it's not so terrible.