Chariots of Fire

So with every season of Biggest Loser I feel this little fire ignite deep within my gut. There's a little voice that says: "You can do it!" With the season finale on the horizon I find myself here once again. That show inspires me with a slight sprinkling of ticking me off. I would like to have a Jillian or Bob in my life. I want to leave kids and "real life" behind to have nothing but "me" time for months at a time--though truth be told I would be one of those blubbering moms who just wants to go home. And I know what they do on that show is like hard-core--some would say unhealthy. I know I ain't got a chance in Hades to lose 100 pounds in a couple of months--that's totally unrealistic, but it does motivate me to do a little more--to realize that sometimes the hardest part is just getting started.

So what did we get for Christmas? A treadmill. No more lame excuses about it being too cold to go outside. And for a few days after setting it up I would just sit and stare at it. We were sizing each other up, I think and I can't decide who is more scared of who (or is it whom?). I mean, I am a sizeable contender (no pun intended)but I know this machine can sometimes be likened to an instrument of torture--lots of pain, merciless. But after the encouragement I received online I finally set foot (or feet) on that puppy today. This helped too:



Couch potato to 5k in 9 weeks?! Can it be true? We shall see! For now, I have done day 1 and I am alive to tell the tale...I don't hate the treadmill yet. My children stood by and watched me--probably stunned to see their mother exercising. But they also cheered me on and Lola even said I looked better already. Sure I felt a little light-headed, but at least for now I am on my way to being a runner...

Oh the Good ol' Days...

Obsession

I've had a lot of obsessions in my lifetime: New Kids on the block, HGTV, reality TV, In-n-Out burgers, Elvis Presley. The list goes on and on. And when I moved to Colorado I had some pretty high hopes for new obsessions--top of the list was "the outdoors." Sadly, I'm still waiting for that one to kick in...

For the last year + that we've been here though, I have learned to dislike snow and anything that comes from McDonald's. In its place I have discovered a new love for all things chicken--especially if it comes from this place:

In the words of my friend's husband: "Find me someone who doesn't like Chick-Fil-A--That person doesn't exist." I concur, Josh. I totally concur. And what's not to love? Yummy salads, sandwiches, free balloons, an indoor play area that is closed off so you don't have to feel like you are eating lunch in a zoo, they refill your drinks, and no crappy kids meal toys (They give books! Books, I say!). I kid you not when I tell you that my typical trip there is never shorter than 1 hour.


But my real love is this:

The spicy chicken sandwich--it's plump and has a spicy kick that makes you say "Ooh! Mama mia!" (kinda like me). And just a couple days ago my love surged to new heights with this:
That's right, Chick-Fil-A sauce!! The little packet is honey roasted b-b-q sauce--which is a topic for anothe time, But here's my beef with this Chick-Fil-A sauce: Every time I go, the friendly cashier asks me if I want any sauce with my order. I always have a moment of panic and promptly say "No, thank you." even though I really want to say "Sure! What do you have to offer?" This place is always super busy and I don't want to be that lady that holds up the line to listen to the list of possible dipping sauces...And once I sit to eat I kick myself for not taking them up on their offer. But, dear Chick-Fil-A, how in the the world am I supposed to know what to ask for?! There is no "sauce menu" anywhere. I have peeked over to other fellow Chick-Fil-A lover's tables and have seen a myriad of sauces. How?! How do they know what this place has to offer? Is it a secret club? Do I have to reach a certain number visits before I am privy to this information? If so, I seriously think I have more than surpassed that number! Who do I see about this? The only reason I discovered this little bit of heaven was because my (real) friend, Leigh Anna let me take one of hers.

It's life-changing. You know how people have these near-death experiences--dark tunnel, bright light and the whole shebang? And when they come back out of it cause it wasn't their time they are changed for the better? They go on to do amazing things with their lives like all Mother Theresa-like? Yeah, that's totally where I'm at. If someone would have come up to me after my first taste of Chick-Fil-A sauce and asked for a kidney or my first-born I'm pretty sure I would've said "Sure! Do you need a lung to go with that?" or "Take her! And I have a 2-year-old I'll throw in for free!" It's just that good.

Problem is, now that I have discovered this little piece of magic, how do I know they're not still holding out on me? What else has Chick-Fil-A been keeping from me? And more importantly, why have they not bottled this sauce?! I'm a girl with a mission now!

It's 11:00pm. I got back about 45 minutes ago from the Temple and I am wide awake. My kids are wide awake, and my heart is full. I was able to go to the Temple tonight with my Visiting Teachers. But these girls are not just my vt's--they are two of the closest friends I have made out here in Parker.

I have always had kind of a tough time with Visiting teaching. I am not good at making appointments. Sometimes I find it hard to make friends with the girls I have visited. But these girls have strengthened my testimony of this program of our church. They have been my good friends. They have welcomed me into this new ward with open arms and have loved me for who I am. I don't know how I got so lucky to have them assigned to me, but I am oh-so-grateful because they were exactly what I needed here.

We went to the Temple and then went out to dinner and talked for hours. Nothing about our friendship is forced--it has all come so naturally, and I seriously think that friends like these are heaven-sent. I can count on one hand the number of friends I have felt this connection with--but to me, they are all evidence of the hand of God in my life.

I spent 5 hours with them tonight, and I seriously could have gone another hour or two. Isn't it grand when you find friends like this? Isn't it even grander when you have a husband who will let you take 5 hours out of your night to go spend with these friends and not utter a single complaint about his night? All-in-all, one of my most favorite nights EVER!

And So It Begins

Lola got off the bus a few weeks ago and the first thing she said to me as we were walking home was: "I've decided I'm going to date Oliver." in a matter-of-fact kinda way. I tried so hard not to react, but to just take this info in and to let her keep talking. So this is kinda the way our conversation went:

Me: So you're dating Oliver?

Lola: Yeah. Jillian said she was going to date him but then she changed her mind. So I think I will.

Me: Does Oliver know you are going to date him?

Lola: I think so. I don't know.

Me: Is Oliver nice?

Lola: Yeah I think he is. Joshua said Oliver was a stink-butt, but I don't think he is. He helped me up when I fell, so that's nice, right?

Me: Yes. That's nice. Are you going to tell dad?

Lola: Nuh-uh.

So a few weeks went by and it wasn't really spoken of again. Mind you, I should've seen this coming cause a week or so before this conversation she had mentioned to me that Oliver had been chasing her on the playground. Turns out, this chasing has happened pretty regularly, and when I asked Lola if Oliver ever caught her she answered "Yes" in a very timid sort of way. Then when I asked her what Oliver did after he caught her she responded that she didn't know...

I often hesistate to let Curran in on all this just cause he seems to overreact to anything that might remotely point to Lola actually being a girl and the fact that she is growing up and will one day notice boys and DATE them. He's been quite vocal about his objection to Lola marrying before he's in the grave and not dating till she's 40, yaddah, yaddah, yaddah. But I tell him because I want him to know what Lola is experiencing. Except for last night...

She got off the bus after a 2 week fall break very happy. And as we were walking down the hill she says: "I need to tell you something but you might say 'eewww' when I tell you." My curiousity was piqued and I encouraged her to tell me anyway. So this is what I heard:

Lola: "I kissed Oliver twice today" (Hides face with her little hands)

Me: You did? Okay...ummm...where...did you...kiss...him?

Lola: (whispers) On the cheek and on the mouth...

At this point I don't know what to say. How do I convey to her how special her kisses are without making this huge deal about it. I know as a kindergartener it was completely innocent and that this is just how she shows affection, but I need to say something right? One of my biggest fears is that she will grow up way too soon. I want her to have an innocent childhood, and as my mind races to the future and I start to imagine her teenage years I begin to break out in a cold sweat, and try to calm myself by taking deep breaths, and making a mental note to check out boarding schools online.

We did have a little talk about it later, and I tried to keep it as casual as possible. She also did tell her dad about it even though she had earlier told me there was "no way" she would. Am I freaking out over nothing? Do I just let it go? I gotta be honest--I woke up in the middle of the night and my mind was just racing with what I should do/say. And then I would tell myself to do/say nothing for fear of making more of this than it really is. This is unchartered territory for me!

Ah...Priesthood Session...

Last night was Priesthood session and not wanting to waste a couple of good hours with no husband around I got together with two of my good friends, Jessica and Claudia (and their corresponding children). By the way, it's kinda weird to bring together two friends from two different parts of your life, isn't it? Jess is from my former, apartment living life. Claudia lives down the street from my new home. The two had never met, and I didn't know how they would jive. Am I the only one who worries about stuff like that?

The night went splendidly--minus a couple of mishaps and accidents. So here is a recap of our night...in pictures:

The kids had Red Baron. We had Carino's. Unfair? No way! When I picked up the Red Baron at Wal-mart Lola said "Pizza?! This is the best day ever!!"

That's supposed to be Noah. But he didn't take a bite out of a corn dog. He opted for Chewy's arm. And Lola got a monster splinter in her thumb--though by the sounds of her incredibly high-pitched screams you would think her whole hand had been gnawed off by a ravenous wolf. The shrieks ended thanks to Jessica's sweet skills with the tweezers.


Once the kids were fed and catastrophes taken care of we made some killer desserts: pumpkin pie milkshakes and pumpkin roll...mmm...and this is what my kitchen sink looked like at the end of the night:

But THIS is how my heart felt after spending a couple of hours with two of the bestest, strongest, most beautiful girls I know!

White Realization

So as I was leaving the library about two weeks ago with a sweet stash of books I glanced over to one of the little display tables and saw this book:

I have lived among White people all my life--I thought I knew what they liked, but also thought it would be interesting to see just how much of an expert I truly am.

As I began reading I found myself nodding my head a lot agreeing with what I was reading, and about half-way through the book I felt like I was hit in the face with a ton of bricks. "Why?" you ask? Cause I came to the stunning realization that according to this book I am a lot more White than I thought I was!!! I know my birth certificate states "Caucasian" as my race/ethnicity--a serious type-o if I ever saw one. But now that I've read this book I am beginning to seriously wonder if maybe I was adopted. According to the book, these are some of the things White people like that I do too:

• farmer's markets
• diversity
• having Black friends
• David Sedaris
• '80's night
• Arrested Development
• plays
• Whole Foods and other grocery co-ops
• vintage
• kitchen gadgets
• documentaries
• expensive sandwiches
• study abroad
• musical comedy
• multilingual children
• having gay friends
• dinner parties
• scarves
• self-deprecating humor
• integrity
• pretending to be a Canadian when traveling abroad
• high school English teachers
• subtitles
• platonic friendships
• reusable shopping bags
• acoustic covers
• The Simpsons
• avoiding confrontation
• DJs
• not having cash
• eating outside
• books
• hardwood floors
• bakeries
• cheese
• modern art museums
• public transportation that is not a bus

I just hope my Mexican friends don't shun me and that my White friends will continue to embrace me.

Glimpses of Noah

Cause he's too cute to keep all to myself...

A Much Needed Pep Talk

Woke up this morning to find this little gem. Thanks, Heidi.


This is an excerpt from The Invisible Woman by Nicole Johnson. It is something I read and reread often. Hope it touches your heart the way it does mine.

It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, "Can't you see I'm on the phone?" Obviously not; no one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all. I'm invisible. The invisible Mom. Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this? Some days I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, "What time is it?" I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude - but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again.

She's going, she's going, she's gone! One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England. Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself as I looked down at my out-of-style dress; it was the only thing I could find that was clean. My unwashed hair was pulled up in a hair clip and I was afraid I could actually smell peanut butter in it. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, "I brought you this." It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription:

"To Carol , with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees." In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work:

1-No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names.

2-These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished.

3-They made great sacrifices and expected no credit.

4-The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.



A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the Cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, "Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it." And the workman replied, "Because God sees." I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, "I see you, Nicole. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become."


At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride. I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder.

When I really think about it, I don't want my daughter to tell the friend she's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, "My mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table." That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want her to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to her friend, to add, "You're gonna love it there." As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.

Roll out!

Didn't every kid in America grow up with a car like this? I know we owned at least two of these--a rusted silver one and a sweet mustard colored one with wood paneling. I know my Tia Estela owned a green one too. But seeing this car just brought back a million memories for me.

We frequented the drive-in in one. The back would be folded down and loaded with blankets and pillows and all sorts of toys and junk.

These puppies could hold like a whole army. My mom would drive us to Catholic school in one and all the kids had some kind of army vehicle name for it.

My brother was sitting the front seat once and he was hanging on to the door handle for safety only to hang on a little too tight, accidently open the door, and go flying out of car.

Once on our way to school the horn got stuck and we drove the entire way with this blaring horn going--as if the car didn't call enough attention to itself.

In my aunt's car I remember we (all the cousins) piled into one--from the rear door cause they all had those sweet doors in the back. As we were getting ready to drive away the driver tried to roll up the back window, not realizing one of my cousins had their head OUT the window and when everyone started to scream cause someone was stuck she panicked and couldn't figure out how to roll the window down.

Oh, the memories...I would drive one of these now over a mini-van ANY day.

Summer's over!

He's got a lot of this to look forward to now that Lola's starting kindergarten...

Confessions of an Unfit Mother

1. I don't grind my own wheat.
2. I don't bake my own bread.
3. I don't sew all my clothes--I can't even sew a button on or hem a pair of pants unless fabric glue is involved.
4. I don't have a home garden.
5. I don't do my own canning from the bounteous harvest of aforementioned garden.
6. We sometimes have "t.v. days" cause I just don't have the energy to plan great and exciting things for my kids to do.
7. I don't keep a journal for myself or for my amazing children.
8. Sometimes I can't sneak a shower into my crazy day.
9. I let my kids eat unhealthy snacks.
10. I don't shop with coupons.
11. I always seem to forget my reusable grocery bags when I go shopping thus increasing my carbon footprint.
12. I bribe my kids with candy.
13. Sometimes my kids go days without a bath.
14. It takes me days to do laundry cause I'll start a load and get so distracted I wont remember to switch it till days later at which point I have to re-wash the load.
15. I often forget to read my scriptures/say my prayers.
16. I screen my calls a lot--even those from dear friends.
17. I seem to live a lot in the "What if" mode and let my beautiful reality pass me by.

And this is only a partial list. I woke up this morning knowing it was going to be "one of those days." And then for a split second the negative thoughts began to surface--how I should be doing more of the good things and less of the bad things, and berating myself for not living up to these self-imposed expectations I feel I have to live up to. But you know what? I'm a good mother! My children are happy and healthy and thriving. I have the awesome blessing of getting to stay home with them. I am here for them whenever they need me. And although I may not be readily available when they come to me they always know I am close by. I need to quit beating myself up for all the things I don't do and start recognizing all the good I do.

In the words of Stewart Smalley: I'm good enough. I'm smart enough. And gosh darn it, people like me.

Thanks for joining me for this mini therapy session. I feel better.

Study like a scholar, scholar!

Thanks Jill for the oh-so-gentle reminder! Sometimes I think "This is why I went to college?!" Sometimes I think what I'm doing is such a waste of time. Sometimes reading my book is so much more interesting that watching my kids try to impress me. Sometimes I get so caught up in the monotony of it all that I forget how fast time is really going and how important my job really is. Sometimes I wish they would hurry up and grow up instead of cherishing their innocence and curiousity. Sometimes I wish I didn't answer to the word "mom." Yet, never, ever have I stopped being grateful for them--for all that they teach me and for how effortlessly they forgive and so willingly love me. It's good to know that although I often-times think my work is unbearable/unnoticed I have not only a good husband by my side, but also the help of a loving Heavely Father.

Life is good.

Home is where...all your time and $$ go!

Things we've done around the house:

• Painted 2 walls in the kitchen a bright yellowy-orange--think orange julius.
• Replaced the medicine cabinet in the upstairs bath--unsuccessfully. Apparently, it's slanting to the left a little and it's driving Curran crazy.
• Painted upstairs bathroom.
• Painted kids play room.
• Window treatments for the play room, living room and kids bedroom.
• Pulled out a massive juniper bush in the front yard, dug up all the rocks and leveled it.
• Put another layer of rocks on the side yard.
• Edged 90 ft of side yard to put some kind of retainer in--tried to put retainer in by myself and after wresting with 60 feet of edging and hammering my hand while putting in stake #2 I gave up.
• Hung wall art in bathrooms, living room, kids room and kitchen.

And numerous other little projects have taken place--with many more on the "to-do" list still. Funny how when I moved into this house I swore it was move-in ready and there was absolutely nothing I needed to do to it...

All of a sudden I start to think about how all growing up my dad spent almost every free moment doing something around our house--fixing, updating, pruning, cleaning. That man was always busy, and I could never understand it...until now. And now I'm starting to understand why it pays to have multiple children--cheap labor. Even with this new revelation I still have NO plans of adding another "little Curran" to the mix. So don't get your hopes up. This baby factory is CLOSED. And it makes my two children that much more precious and valuable. They're like limited editions. And how did we go from talking about housework to my womb?

I'm a Goner...

So Curran and his two brothers that also live in Colorado have gone to Utah till July 5th. They said they were going out there to help their parents finish projects around the house that have taken more time than originally expected. I personally think he went on some "boy trip." He claims his finger is still swollen from the wasp sting so his wedding band is sitting on our dresser as we speak. I'm sure there will be a lot of movie watching and eating of fast food, and goodness knows what other mayhem these "wild" guys will cause--maybe some computer games, bowling and if they're feeling really adventurous maybe even miniature golf. Watch out Taylorsville, UT!! The Mitchell brothers on the loose!

But I am writing this post as a warning or S.O.S. of sorts. See, yesterday while edging our side yard by the sidewalk--which by the way is like 100 feet long! I had no idea how long 100 feet actually was until Curran handed me a shovel and told me to start clearing rocks. So we're out there shoveling away--sweating profusely when a guy on a bike comes riding by. I ignored him mostly, until I saw him circle around and stop in front of us to ask what we were doing. Curran proceeded to explain to him what we were doing and bike-guy says our work might be easier if we use a pick-axe first to break everything up. We exclaim what a genius he is and what idiots we are for not thinking of such a thing. He then offers to let us borrow his pick-axe as long as we're careful with it. He rides off and promises to be right back. Sure enough, a few minutes later he is strolling down the hill with a giant tool in one hand and a coffee cup in another. BTW, who drinks coffee in 90 degree weather?! This should have been my first red flag...

He shows Curran how to use the pick-axe and then offers to just finsh off the rest of the pick-axing (about 40 feet) for us so he doesn't have to leave his tool. We reluctantly agree--we're not used to having nice neighbors. Being from L.A. I eye everyone suspiciously. So he keeps digging and starts making small talk with Curran. Curran tells him that he is leaving town for 4 days and that his wife (ME!!) and his kids will be home alone the whole time!!!! I try to ignore his big mistake and find other things to do. So I start weeding the backyard, and about a half hour later Curran has invited bike-guy into our garage and out to the backyard to show him who-knows-what.

So this is the jist of what I'm trying to say:

1. There is a random bike riding guy out in my neighborhood who knows I am sans husband this weekend.

2.Curran has given him a tour of our home so I'm sure he has figured out the best places to hide and/or break in.

3. He owns a PICK-AXE!!

4. He's a red-head--and we all know how crazy those people are. Am I right?

SOOOOO, if you don't hear from me this weekend or anytime thereafter it's cause I AM DEAD!! I'm generally leary of strangers, but a stranger with red hair and a pick-axe? Hello! I am doomed.

P.S. Anyone who wants to come spend the night while Curran is away may inquire within...unless you have red hair.

I Just Want to SLEEP!

We've been struggling with getting Noah to sleep in his super comfy twin size bed since like...getting rid of the crib a year ago. It's been a battle every night. He is now two and a half and sleeping with him in our queen size bed is impossible (and painful).

We have tried everything short of locking our bedroom door and letting him figure it out at night. Our latest attempt(s) has been a combo of trying to get him to nap in the early afternoon--not at 6 pm as he would like to or eliminating the nap all-together so that he is so absolutely exhausted at night he will zonk out for at least 8 hours. Sometimes it works. Most times it doesn't.

So now I go in there and say a prayer, sing a song and choose our most favorite part of the day. Then I proceed to lay down (in a twin bed) with Noah in the hopes that he will be comforted by having me close and fall asleep--leaving me to sneak out of the room and back to my bed. That has happened probably twice in the 2 months we've been doing this. And I know it's our inconsistency that has made it so stinkin' difficult. It's hard to say "no" to that beautiful little face--especially when its 1 or 2 in the morning and you're half asleep.

But this post isn't about that. It's about last night and how flippin' tired I am today. I went into their room last night and did our nightly ritual. I left them there and Lola quickly fell asleep. Noah wandered in and out of our room multiple times and climbed into Lola's bed to try to wake her up. An hour later I got up and got him back in his bed and cozied up to him. He had me sing songs and then tried to climb over me to "go sleep daddy's bed." At this point I had had enough of being kicked by his pudgy little feet and slapped by his chubby little hands so I grabbed my pillows and laid on the floor...it was hard.

Without realizing it, I fell asleep and when I awoke I was sore and cold. But Noah was asleep--in his own bed! So I went back to my bed thinking the battle was over (it was 1 am). At about 4:30 he came sneaking in and since the sun was rising I let him under the blankets. But once again it's like being stuck in a confined space with a midget cage fighter. I left him there and took over his bed in the other room. 10 minutes later he came in looking for me and climbed in!!

So I have given up! I have come downstairs to find something productive to do (like blogging/complaining). And guess who is lying on the couch next to me?! Yup! Noah!!! It's touching and heart-warming to be so loved and needed, but couldn't it just be between the hours of 8am-8pm?! Please?!

My Eye Ain't Queer--Part Uno

So in case you've been living in a cave and haven't heard: We bought a house. I love my little house. It grows on me little more every day. Some mornings (most mornings) I wake up still thinking I'm living in my old apartment. Then I look around me and smile.

Here's the problem--okay ONE of the problems, you know, besides a half-dead lawn, not knowing how to work my sprinklers, having a beautiful formal living room with no furniture, etc. I have a cute little kitchen with one big, white wall. I went out to collect paint samples and taped them to the wall while I figured out what the right color was for my most favorite room in the whole house. I had friends come over and after being left speechless for a minute they told me (as nicely as they could) that about 90% of my choices were a little too "Mexican."

So the next day I had my realtor come over (is he still my realtor if our business is done and over?). He had previously admitted during one of our house hunting excursions that he likes to dabble in home staging/design. This little bit of trivia about him did not surprise me in the least. He's always nicely dressed and truth be told, my gaydar goes off a little bit when he's around. I have gaydar. I bought it online at Sharper Image.

So he comes over, and like my friends the night before, his initial reaction was silence. I tell him what the girls had said about my paint colors. He chuckles and admits that he thought the same thing. Anywho, we discuss colors. We throw around ideas for the landscaping, and the covered patio. I make him (in his fancy clothes) try to figure out why my sprinklers aren't functioning. He's crawling around in my crawl space, touching cobwebby valves --nothing! He's stumped! Aaaand this has nothing to do with my original story. So we will re-visit the sprinklers another day.

I have a hard time making decisions. I don't trust my style--I still have an old school denim jacket and lots of clunky shoes. I can't possibly be expected to choose a paint color for my accent wall. For now, my idea is to leave the wall completely white , but it does need something. So I've searched online for prints that I think may compliment my kitchen decor. These are my top choices--you tell me what you think.

Here's what may help you decide:
The cabinets, island, and nook table are dark.
The appliances are white.
I've decorated with polka-dots and stripes.
The main colors are black, white, red, yellow and green.

And because I'm not an expert at blogging, the pics are in the following post.
Be honest!

My eye ain't queer! Part Dos

Random Thoughts

Things that have run through my mind lately:

I hate packing
I hate cleaning
I hate unpacking
Caring for a lawn is like caring another child
How can a two-year-old's feet smell so bad?
Wascally wabbits!!
A place for everything and everything in its place
Sometimes one-hour church is 45 minutes too long
I'm glad Curran is around to help me. I couldn't do this without him.
How long is too long for my kids to go without a bath?
I wonder how Lost ended?! (Don't you DARE tell me! It's on my Hulu list of things to watch)
Thank you CBS reporter for ruining the Celebrity Apprentice finale for me!!
I'm only letting Noah's ducktail grow out to go with the white trash lawn we currently have...
I have to take a toll road to get to the closest Sams Club?! I'm going back to Costco.

I just got back from a birthday party at Chuck E Cheese's. The moment the kids were invited I cringed. That place is every parent's nightmare, and yet somehow, it seems to be the "it" place for birthday parties (still). I thought these went out of fashion when the Pump it Ups and Houses of Bounce came into existence. Today I learned that I TOTALLY stand corrected.

I knew we were in trouble when we had to circle the parking lot multiple times to find a spot. Once we found a spot we were greeted by a line that went out the door--just to get in! Are you serious?! Once again, my spidey senses were telling me to RUN the heck out of there--to fake some kind of injury or ailment and drag my screaming children back to the car and to the safety of my cave-like apartment. But no, we waited, and waited, and waited. BTW, love how the red ropes and the teenage, pimple-ridden bouncer at the front of the line are meant to make you feel like you're getting into some posh Hollywood night club. They even have a clip board with a VIP list! I noticed how they sneered when I told them that the party we were attending was not "Chuck E. sanctioned," and was merely being held at a few booths in the outer limits of their exclusive VIP birthday lounge.

After they gave us our hand stamps to make us parents feel safe that no one will be able to walk out with our children--though there were a few times today I would have turned the other way had someone volunteered to take my sugar-laden children home with them--we proceeded to look for our party. We found it and both of my adorable children took off running in opposite directions. Good thing we had hand stamps! Never mind the pervs that could be lurking around eyeing my children, and pretending to be another frazzled parent. I panic in places like this! There is so much stinkin' sensory overload, and way too many funky smells around.

Lola would only resurface when she needed more tokens--and I only gave her one at a time--my way of keeping tabs on her. Noah was a different story all together. He wandered from game to game--asking for tokens at each one. He would insert the token, push a couple of buttons and then walk away while the game was still going. He also would sneak up behind kids while they were completely engrossed in their games and swipe their tickets, or join them in tossing balls or sit on their little ride--total free-loader and thief--made me proud.

Back to my ranting: there were lines for ALL the games--ALL. What is this place? Disneyland? There were also quite a few of these games that ate our tokens! Seriously lost quite a few, and I just felt like a fool looking for an employee in the sea of people to fetch me my lost token. I'm a grown woman for crying out loud! Not to mention that the minute you stepped away from a game there was someone right behind you waiting to take a turn. And speaking of being a grown woman--You would not believe the number of adults that were walking around flashing their wads of tickets, or playing these games--like with an intense, serious look on their face and all. I noticed this the last time I went to Chuck E Cheese's out in L.A. too. Some people take their ticket winning way too seriously and will beat you down if you even eye their monstrous pile of tickets funny. Really? This is how they choose to spend their time/money?It's the same feeling I get when I go to an amusement park and see grown men walking around flaunting their massive stuffed animals (that probably came from some sweat shop in China). News flash: There is no pride in you spending some ridiculous amount of money to win some cheap toy that is probably full of lead (cause you know how those Chinese are) and will most likely end up in a thrift store someday.

And don't even get me started on their pizza...If I ever run into that mouse in a dark alley he better run! I'm just saying...

Casa de Mitchell

So, we haven't officially gotten word back from the bank, but I'm just too excited to wait any longer! Besides, word from our lender is that the whole process is "looking phenomenal." We are getting close to closing this deal, and I'm gonna take a chance and trust God that things will turn out as they should (a.k.a. I get my house). A couple of things to keep in mind: 1) the house is not officially ours, but with a "phenomenal" outlook, how can it not be? and 2) The stuff in the pics belongs to the family currently living in the home. So, without further ado, I present, our little Ranchito de Mitchell I ain't too blog savvy, so let me fill you in on what you've seen above:

1. The outside of the house (obviously). It's on a corner lot, and I dare you to tell me it's not a cute lil' house!

2. Then there was the front room, or what some people refer to as the "formal living room." Ya'll better not expect to hang out here unless you're the president (well, maybe not even him) or some foreign dignitary.

3. Next is the family room. Cozy and comfy. Me likey.

4. Then you see the kitchen. Somewhat small--and the biggest reason we rejected this house the first time we saw it, but we've been able to figure out how to add counter space and make the seating less of a space-eater. Just wait till we show you!

This is the eating area. I'm not a big fan of eat-in kitchens, but there is definite room for expansion, and if we turn out to fall in love with the place and refuse to move ever, we will add on to this here cute lil' area.

The master bedroom, in all it's glory

One of the small bedrooms

The third bedroom--this will be the toy room until the kids get old enough to start hating each others guts.

Then you have the a-mazing backyard. This is my most favorite part, hands down. The covered patio is great and the amount of space the kids will have to run and play in is unbelievable! There is also a raised garden, a sand pit, and a giant throne hidden among the trees.

So, there it is. It grows on me a little bit more every time I glance at these pics. We can't wait to start packing and make this little house our own!