Where've You Been Em?

It's funny how at even the ripe ol' age of 33 I still need my mom and dad to pat me on the back and tell me they're my #1 fans. Last Saturday we took a quick trip to Pocatello. With Stake Conference the next day, a huge disinterest in sitting through another 2 hr. meeting with the little ones and no 'responsibilities', we figured "Why not?" For those of you interested and worried about our eternal salvation, we did still attend church with my parents...

Come time to head home Sunday I just couldn't make myself do it. I used some enticing words on my ever loving husband and he and the older 2 kids headed home while I stayed on with Tess and Nate. I needed to forget school, primary, household duties and everything else for a few days. Some people head to a spa or Hawaii for such a break, I head to my parents. They have this magical ability to make you feel like you are their favorite and you are the most smart, most capable, most beautiful, best there is person. The boys, Whitney and I all know the others get the same treatment on an individual basis and deep inside we have come to terms with this fact, but it's fun to pretend we really are their best and most favorite. It's the best mental massage out there and doesn't cost a dime.

My dad, bless his BIG heart, would greet me in the morning just as I had emerged from a groggy sleep, heavy with child, hair askew and a face to scare even the strongest of people with a sincere, "You're cute." Who doesn't want to hear those words in the morning? I can still hear him telling me as a child I was the cutest one at church that day...in fact he told me that last Sunday too. He's timeless.

My mom is the cheerleader, literally. She listened to me talk and talk and talk for 3 days straight, I had a lot to get off my chest. Poor James can only handle so much rehashing of the going ons of my days. Like most men I personally know he figures if it's a new day the problem, concern or latest project was left in the hours of the day before. I admire him for that.

I'm afraid I am of that unique species of human beings who has to talk a subject to death. This part of my personality even bothers me. I know I've said too much when at the end of the night James is doing the "Uh huh" as he drifts off to sleep. I like to think he knew what he was getting when he married me. I am however, lucky enough though that my mother is of the same variety as me and after each Dear Abby session my mom would tell me, "You are smart. You can figure it out," or "You always do such a fabulous job with stuff like that. Quit worrying," or my favorite, "Have you prayed about it yet?" I'm embarrassed to admit the answer to the last one is sometimes 'No' as I'm afraid to hear the answer.

After 3 days I was talked out, bolstered up and came home feeling like the cutest pregnant girl ever to grace this earth. My somewhat delusional father kept telling me I was, so I decided to believe him. He looked past the puffy face and gimpy walk and saw me. I'm sure it's just like recognizing a diamond in the rough. As a side note: James tells me the same stuff too on a daily basis, but he has too as he has me for eternity and is required to do so. I'm the one helping him to create that mansion in heaven. He can't do it alone.

I also came home with a desire to get LOTS of stuff done...extra bonus for everyone. That natural nesting instinct has set in. I want to paint, scrub, plant, bake, prepare and craft everything I come across.

This week I:

Had the garden roto tilled by a nice young man from our ward who's parent's main goal is to keep him busy. Hooray for hardworking boys and the parents who offer their services. Now we just need to decide how, when and what to plant. This is our very first garden ever and only James and I would decide that 6 1/2 mos. pregnant is the best time to do a tester garden. I really want to show up at the Fall Harvest dinner this year with bounty from our own efforts and not the efforts of the Walmart produce department. Good luck to us.














Made my very first loaves of whole wheat bread with wheat we ground ourselves. Very pioneering don't you think? This has been a goal of mine for ages and I finally did it. In "Little Red Hen" fashion, we all helped grind the wheat and the kids have gorged themselves for 2 days straight on warm, thick bread. They have however requested that I get my hands on an electric wheat grinder so we can stop using our 'Just in case there is an emergency, it's the end of the world, there is no power and we live by the sweat of our brow' hand grinder. I promised to look into it.













Can you say long winded? Remember that talk a topic to death trait of mine? You've just witnessed it firsthand. I've decided sometimes my sister hates to call me because she knows she's in for a long winded explanation about the simplest of topics. "What's for dinner?" Well let me tell you.................