Shoulda Woulda Coulda

I should have scrubbed my downstairs bathroom to defunk the lingering scents in there, but instead, I helped my kids set up their first ever lemonade stand.

I would have cleaned the thousands of dried, highly chlorinated pool-water drips off of my 9 foot slider door (water shooters, a pool, and boys pretending to be firefighters=doused house), but we had cups of cool refreshment to sell.

I could have scrubbed the three spots of teenage mutant ninja turtle ooze out of my carpet but I was too busy fishing quarters out of my purse to fund my boys lemonade habit. Not to mention the $1.75 I dished out for the suckers--hey, didn't I buy those suckers in the first place?

The girls did sell one cup of lemonade to a non-brother in the 47 minutes they manage to last out in the heat. Then, luckily, Dad and Grandma showed up at the end of their long work-hour and each paid for 1 cup of lemonade plus a $4.50 tip.

I'd call it a success even though my to-do list was left undone.

The Simple Truth

Keaton gave his Daddy a Father's Day Card entitled "My Dad"  that summed up the way we all feel about Brian.  The card had the beginning of a sentence on each page and Keaton finished each sentence.  About halfway through the card a pattern became apparent:

My dad likes it when he comes home from wrke.

My dad is great because he dus stuf with me.

My dad and I like to do stuf with me.

I love it when my Dad dus stuf with me.

My dad likes to spend time with me.

Keaton's answers were mostly alike, but they are so true!  The best part of the day is when we hear the garage door open and everyone in the house is electrified because "Daddy's home!"  He is such a big heart in our home and he is never stingy with his love, adoration, and affection for each of us.   We know that more than anything, he wants to be home with us, spending time together and doing "stuf."  Thanks Bri, for all the love & all the "stuf."

Training Wheels

"Do you want to drive?" my Dad asked as he held out the keys to his white Buick Park Avenue. The year was 1987. I was fourteen years old and I had never been behind the wheel before.

Surprised at the offer, I answered, "Yes!" and grabbed the keys and hopped in to the driver's seat. My Dad calmly gave me instructions on putting the car into reverse and pulling out of the parking stall. We had just left a Stake Dance Committee meeting, so I was trying to navigate my way out of the Stake Center parking lot.

"Now, put it in to drive and slowly hit the gas pedal as you turn the wheel," Dad instructed. I was nervous and got a little lead footed and instead of slowly hitting the gas I punched it. Dad and I and the Buick went up over a curb and took out a small tree.

"Okay, put it into park and then get out."

I moved the gear to P, then slid over to the passenger seat while Dad came around the car to get in the driver's seat. I was scared as I watched him get in the car, awaiting either a lecture or punishment or both.

I looked at Dad and a grin stole across his face. He started to giggle and said, "Don't tell Mom!"

I giggled along with him most of the way home, grateful for such a "cool" Dad.

Today, I am still grateful for a "cool" Dad as I reflect on that experience with him as one of the many from which I gained a valuable life lesson. With three simple words and and a smile, he taught me that people were more important than things. I learned he valued our relationship more than the Buick's bumper and the money it cost him to replace the tree. I learned that I could make mistakes, but he would love me anyway. And, eventually I learned to drive.

Happy Father's Day.

Best Seat in the House

The primary kids (3 - 11 year olds) sang to their Dad's in church today for Father's Day.  My girls are up in Utah spending some time with their Grandma.  I woke up today by Katie and Shelby singing to me over the phone.  They also sent me a letter they wrote for Father's Day.  I couldn't ask for better daughters.  However, today it was just the boys who sang in church.

Because I am on the stand during church, most of the time I only get to see the back of my kids heads as they sing.  Today was different.

Keaton came up and stood right next to me, and Weston came up and sat right on my lap.  The primary sang two songs.  I got my own private concert by my two boys.

The last song they sang ends with the following line, "Put my arms around his neck, hug him tight like this.  Pat his cheeks, then give him what?  A great big kiss."  Before Weston got off my lap, I was treated to a great big kiss.  I truly had the best seat in the house.

Ladies Man

Anyone who knows Weston knows that he is all boy.  Because of that fact, I do not find it the least bit concerning that he spent a good 90 minutes of his life, along side his cousin Lauren playing with these...

and this...

Still, I am glad that when I checked on Wen and Lo, he was always holding this guy-

p.s.  See how his boyness shines through, even while playing Barbies...he chooses to play Ken who is loosing his head and has no change of clothes!

If I were a Superhero...

I would be Smellicious, battling stinky smells one stench at a time. 

Does your bathroom smell like a urinal because you have two little boys that refuse to aim?  Never fear...Smellicious is here.  I can combat those odors with a flash of my super strawberry scented wristband.
Refrigerator wreak of leftovers from the Mongolian Barbeque (remember the night you just didn't feel like cooking?...yep, those stinky takeout boxes are coming back to remind you of that every time that 'fridge door is ajar)...?  My superhero vanishing spray makes them disappear lickety split!
Husband's nose breath smells like garlic chicken scampi from Olive Garden?...Two strategically placed tic-tacs oughtta do the trick.
Never an odor to stinky or a stench too strong...bring it on!

Divine Heritage

My boys love to wrestle...all three of them.  Brian, Keaton, and Weston are all instigators.  Sometimes I see Keaton running at full force to pummel Brian.  Other times Brian reaches out and grabs one of the boys, holds them down and has them "captured."  The captive wriggles and hollers until his free brother helps him escape.  As soon as they are released, they always run back for more.

Last night Weston started it by calling his Dad a "dumbhead."  Brian captured him, and Weston started yelling for help, "Do anything!  Do ANYTHING!"  Since Keaton wasn't around he directed his pleas to me.  I am no match for Brian's strength, but I do have some secret tricks up my sleeve but they are mine and I will reveal them only in the direst of circumstance.  So instead, I fed Weston some lines to soften the heart of the big Daddy:

"I am your sweet son!"

"I am your baby boy!"

"I am a child of God!"

Ta-Da!  The last one did it.  Weston was free.  But of course, Weston came right back for more.  "Dumbhead!"  he called right before he was captured again.  Eventually Brian let Weston wriggle one little hand free.  Weston balled up his hand into a fist, aimed at Brian's face, and growled angrily, "I AM A CHIILD OF GOD!!"

We couldn't help but giggle at the dissonance between action and words!

Going to Pieces

Someone once said that having children is like having pieces of your heart out of your body, walking around. If that is the case, then one blonde, blue eyed, dimpled cheek, piece left for Salt Lake City on an airplane two days ago.

I watched that piece of my heart happily walk away from my car at the airport wearing a red backpack and holding on to his Grandma's hand, without looking back. With slightly blurred, wet vision I watched that piece of my heart get smaller and smaller as I drove away.

Oh my heart! I miss that boy.

Dancing Queen

"Nobody's Perfect" is the song Shelby performed to last Tuesday at her dance recital...but in my mind, she is pretty darn close to perfect.

She has grown up a little since her last recital (2003), but the joy that emanates from her face while she performs has stayed the same.

Love this girl!

What's NOT in a name...

The political signs I've seen this year have given me much more to giggle about than they have in years past.  Sara and I saw this one up in Sedona a few weeks back.

 

I saw another good one in Phoenix the other day that reminded me of Pud up in Sedona.

I have absolutely no idea what either of these guys stand for, but I'm ready to completely punch a chad.

Why I hate Tweezers...

Oh man, let me count the ways.

First of all I had no idea what a "unibrow" was until I met Sara.  Who would have thought that two eyebrows are better than one?  Who would have ever even thought to notice that someone has one rather than two??  I know that it is not eyebrow, but I'm pretty sure it's like pants - there is just one item there.

I lived tweezer free for almost 25 years of my life.  Those days are over.  Not to be conceited, but I'm not a total wuss, I think I can handle some pain, but sheesh, when Sara pulls out those stinkin' tweezers I run for the hills.  It hurts!  I have to keep checking to see if I'm bleeding as she is ripping hair out of me.  Also, if your wife ever suggests that it is less painful and quicker to "wax" between your eyes - do what you need to, but avoid that one at all costs.

With that said, as much as I hate the tweezers, I adore my wife way more.  Even though I know how much it's going to hurt, I figure it is her that has to look at my face, not me.  Also, tweezing requires close proximity - this is always a good thing.

So just one comment on Sara's previous post about the lost tool of torture.  It is true that I had to stand there and be the tweezability tester.  I may have stood there, but I want to be clear - I wasn't happy about it, and I'm so relieved no pictures of the event have shown up.

Needless to say, I'm a two brow guy now, and I'm even starting to complain a little less.

Lost and Found

As I see it, we have an abundance of certain things in our home, namely, lamps, beds, and eyebrows. Yes it is true, we are eyebrow affluent. So when my favorite, best and perfect tweezers came up missing, I knew we were in trouble.

There was searching, pleading for help and more searching, but it was in vain. As much as I hated to betray the 8 year relationship with my Henckels tweezers (Brian brought them back to me as a souvenir from a business trip to Europe) I knew for the good of our family's grooming I would have to purchase a different set.

I headed to my local Sephora (love that place) and surveyed my options. I even made Brian stand in as the tester for the tweezability. I settled on a pair of Tweezerman tweezers. They are good, in fact, they are great.

That evening I was decidedly satisfied with the new tweezers and happily plucked away at a few strays, when of course, the inevitable happens...the Henckels turn up...

Where?...oh, um, uh,...right nest to my bathroom sink. Oops! Silly me.