My (spooky) nighttime confession

In preparation for a Halloween party last Friday, I trolled music videos on YouTube. I found many classics like Monster Mash and Ghostbusters but the king of them all is, of course, Michael Jackson’s Thriller. 

My kids gathered around my computer. My 10-year-old Hadley was so engrossed she watched it twice while 8-year-old Bode was nervous but I wasn’t worried. Though he’s never seen a horror movie, he has no problems with Lord of the Rings and that’s way scarier, right?

Wrong.

Here’s how our evening played out:

9:40 p.m. I passed out early from exhaustion.

10:30 p.m. Daughter wake-up call.

Her: “Mom, Bode is crying.”
Me: “Why are you awake?!” (She had just recovered from a two-week stint with enterovirus-turned-pneumonia.)
Her: “I’m not tired.”
Me: “GET TO BED, NOW.”

10:31 p.m. Trudge to Bode’s room. He’s still asleep but obviously freaked out and crying. Soothingly hug and pat his back, whispering “it’s only a dream.” He quiets down.

11:05 p.m. He starts crying again. Mother of the Year lovingly calms him. At least The Daughter is finally asleep.

Midnight-ish Crying con’t. Maybe if I pretend he’s not crying, he’ll stop. Negative.

12:15 a.m. Bring him into my bed. Snuggle him tight as he falls into a feverish, Thriller-induced slumber.

12:20-1:55 a.m. Every 10-15 minutes, he cries out then goes back to sleep.

2 a.m. More crying, more soothing. Resolve I’m too old for this. How do women in the 40s handle newborn all-nighters?

2:15 a.m. He starts kicking me in his sleep. Gently move him away.

2:25 a.m. Fat Kitty abandons us, citing “at least one of us needs to get some sleep.”

2:30 a.m. After yet another shout-out, I am DONE. I scoop him up in his arms and carry him to his bed. Close the door.

2:33 a.m.-6:20 a.m. I finally get some sleep.

7 a.m.  Bode wake-up.

“How are you feeling today? Do you remember your bad dreams?”
“No, not really. But how did I get into your bed last night?”

He was his usual chipper self while I looked like the walking dead the rest of the day.

Now, I finally get why “Thriller” is scary.

A weak payback but I’ll take it

My brother Jade a.k.a. Jeek (a nickname I affectionately gave him when he was younger; a cross between Jade and geek) loves to play practical jokes and his chemical engineering co-workers seem to get the brunt of it.

Fortunately we all live of different sides of the country so proximity usually makes us safe.

However, there is this little thing called the Internet where incriminating pictures don’t disappear. Ever. I should know–he has posted some doozies of me.

That’s why it was a stroke of sheer brilliance when I published a hilarious commentary of the pictures he and my brother-in-law Fred had posted to Facebook that day (in case you missed it, go here).

Jeek’s only response: “You do realize there will be payback for this right?”

His rebuttal?

My brother Pat’s perm years got dragged into the war because (in Jade’s words) “You liked the photo yesterday that was enough for me!!!”

It doesn’t take much for Jeek.

If this is as serious at it gets, I got off easy. Of course, who knows how many more of my tween blackmail pictures are floating around out there.

Playing catch-up

Hadley is finally on the mend following her enterovirus-turned-pneumonia. When I say she was sick, I mean it–she barely got out of bed or ate for days on end.

I can’t complain, though. Until recently she has been blessed with great health, with the exception of a bout of RSV when she was a baby. My heart truly goes out to kids with serious, non-curable illnesses.

We met with her teacher this week and her two-week absence is more serious than I thought:

SHE MISSED THE ENTIRETY OF THEIR UNIT ON CANADA.

 

How to honor pioneers in the easiest way possible-Part II

Remember when I shared pioneer stories with my kids and tried to get them excited for the Mormon pioneer trek reenactment they will do when they are teenagers?

If you have no idea what I’m talking about, you must refresh your memory. Specifically the part when Bode proposes the easiest way possible to honor the pioneers…because his comments just keep getting better (read on).

I’ve pretty much confirmed that manual labor is not on his list of future occupations.

A couple of months after the pioneer trek in our stake, all the youth and their families met together for a “fireside” where they shared their feelings as they watched a video about their experience. The amateur videographer pulled together what must have been hours of footage and interviews–they really captured the spirit, hard work and beautiful theme of how to rescue one another as each of us struggles throughout our lives.

I wanted my kids to see them in action so we watched the video for Family Home Evening. Many of the youth shared how they had been particularly touched during the women’s pull, which is beautifully described in this article that I’d highly recommend reading in its entirety.

Later that day we had what many recognize to be called the “women’s pull.” The women’s pull is supposed to remind those trekking of the time in handcart history when the men of the handcart companies were called off to fight with the Mormon Battalion, and the women were left to pull the handcarts. If you can imagine tired and severely underfed women pulling handcarts up a very steep and rocky ridge, your heart might tug a little bit. Mine does, because that’s exactly what all the other women in our group and I did. It was hard and teary. All the fathers and brothers stood off to the side, some crying, and had to watch us as we struggled up the hill. Some women tripped, fell, lost hold of their handcarts, or had to stop….

The women’s pull is found on the video at about 9:39.

One of my favorite parts of the video was the story of pioneers Jens and Elsie Neilson (at the 18:38 mark).

We find one of the most touching stories of sacrifice, faith, and loving charity in the life of Jens Neilson, who was a member of the Willie Handcart Company. Jens, a relatively prosperous Danish farmer, heeded the call to bring his family to Zion. In Iowa he wrote that he had let all of his money go to the Church except enough to buy a handcart and stock it with 15 pounds of belongings per person. Jens wrote, “Obedience is better than sacrifice.” The people for whom Jens was responsible were himself; his wife, Elsie; their six-year-old son, Neils; and a nine-year-old girl, Bodil Mortensen, whom Jens offered to take to Utah. In the early Wyoming blizzard, temperatures plummeted below zero. The Neilsons had consumed their last pound of flour days before, but somehow they made it over the treacherous Rocky Ridge, urged on by their indomitable courage and unconquerable faith. Tragically, 13 of the company died at Rock Creek and were buried in shallow, snow-covered graves—among them, Jens and Elsie’s son, Neils, and young Bodil Mortensen.

President Hinckley describes this portion of the trail as “a trail of tragedy, a trail of faith, a trail of devotion, a trail of consecration, even the consecration of life itself.”

Jens arrived at Rock Creek, 11 miles beyond Rocky Ridge, with both feet frozen. He was unable to walk another step and pleaded with Elsie, “Leave me by the trail in the snow to die, and you go ahead and try to keep up with the company and save your life.” Elsie, with her unfaltering pioneer courage, replied, “Ride, I can’t leave you, I can pull the cart.”Such was the strength and the faith of many pioneer women on the trail.

A couple reenacted the story of Jens and Elsie (at about 20:20). I got teary-eyed as I watched Elsie struggle to pull Jens up that hill. At 22:48, the commentator asked the young men: “If you see someone struggling like this, what should you do? Go now and help if you feel so inclined”

A floodgate of valiant, eager-to-serve teenage boys raced across the field and down the hill, clambering to help pull Elsie pull the handcart with poor Jens inside.

Following the video, I asked Bode to share his thoughts.

“Mom, I can’t wait….”

I was sooooo excited. Had he finally been touched with the pioneer spirit as he watched many of the young men he admires rush in to rescue?

“Yes, Bode?”

“Mom, I can’t wait until I’m the one being pulled up that hill like Jens.”

I solemnly swear that (Jamie) is up to no good!

The television in our bedroom is on the brink of death, which is the equivalent to the apocalypse for Jamie.

Me? I’ve never ever had a television in my bedroom and certainly didn’t ask for one. But then I married a man who loves to mindlessly watch it after his looong work days and is convinced he needs it to lull him into la la land.

So, I’ve compromised. I’ve learned to fall asleep with that silly thing blaring but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. I was actually kinda looking forward to its death so I would have at least a few days of sweet, TV-less slumber.

But noooooooo.

The other night (while the old TV was still functioning), he announced that he and Bode were going “for a boy’s night out shopping.”

I was immediately suspicious, primarily because they don’t shop.

Bode, though technically a dude, is first and foremost a mama’s boy and spilled the beans. “Daddy is taking me to buy a new TV,” he whispered.

I should not have been surprised. I knew their little trip was either:

1) A surprise for me

or

2) He was up to no good.

You’d better believe his next shopping trip will be the former.

Brothers From Another Mother

My brother Jade and brother-in-law Fred each posted pictures of themselves on Facebook today.

It is not difficult to figure out who is my blood relative.

P.S.

Brother from Another Mother #3

Big Media Day!

During an overwhelmingly stressful week (Hadley’s pneumonia is still going strong), Jamie and I were both featured in the media today!

I was hired by Johnsonville to do a segment on 9News about warm breakfasts for cold-weather days (HIGHLY recommend their new fully-cooked sausages; my kids are obsessed and I love they take only 30 seconds in the microwave).


I’ve done a variety of news segments–from fashions shows to travel tips–but never anything on food. Though I love cooking it, let’s just say styling it ain’t my forté

I’ll stick to eating from now on, thankyouverymuch.

Television newsrooms are never boring. In the past, I’ve shared the green room with the firefighters from the pinup calendar. Today, it was the Ringmaster from Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey.

The uproarious dude makes ME look and sound like a wallflower.

In other news, when I checked my email in the middle of the night (we won’t even get into how I’ve been waking up ravenous at 3-4 a.m. since I started Paleo), I found a note from Bill Orchard of our local gardener’s group:

Hi Community Gardeners,
Check out today’s  newspaper for an article on Arvada’s own giant pumpkin grower Jamie Johnson.
Look for him this weekend at the Festival of Scarecrows and the Giant Pumpkin Contest.
Yes, he will be available for interviews and autographs.
Enjoy,
Bill
“Signing autographs?” HELP ME.
The Denver Postrequested an interview with Jamie a couple of weeks ago. He was sheepish because this has been a crappy growing year but it was a bad season for most of Colorado’s growers. Between hail storms, a lot of rain and yellow vine disease, not very many plants made it to the scale.

Read the article and his video interview here.

 

And yes, I like that the reporter linked to one of my former columns in the newspaper about Jamie’s obsession and quoted me as saying “there was not full disclosure before the marriage.”

 

Give that dude a Pulitzer.

Respecting the Motherland

My awesome friend Stacey bought my kids Canada shirts when she came to visit. They wore them proudly but since that time, the shirts have been gathering dust in their drawers.

I finally pulled out Bode’s.

“You need to wear this today.”

(Proud American) “No, I’m good.”

“I’ll give you something.”

(Proud American’s interest piqued) “Oh really? What?”

“More technology time today.”

Bribe, accepted! That kid put that shirt on faster than a Canadian summer (which only lasts a few weeks).

Later that day, his evil American sister was taunting him. “C’mon, Bode. Why are you wearing that shirt? It’s not like it’s Canada Day today.”

He coldly looked at her and retorted, “Every day is Canada Day.”

There may be hope for him yet.

Why we need garlic-scented deodorant

Hadley is a rock star when it comes to interior design and crafts. She was recently helping me finish decorating my den, wherein, I let out a roar of frustration after pounding the gazillionth nail in the wrong place on the wall. She kindly observed, “This isn’t really your thing. You don’t have the patience for this.”

Gee, you think?

But thanks to her, I think my office/guest room turned out pretty darn cute.

What wasn’t so cute was how we smelled after. I’ve had many years to become accustomed to my own stench but her early-onset puberty is a new thing. In fact, her entire fifth grade class needs a lesson on personal hygiene.

It was the night before school started and I figured it would be splendid time to teach her about the joys of deodorant.

“I want you to lean over and sniff your armpit, long and hard.”

“Huh?” she asked, confused. (Chalk that up as something Mom has never asked me to do).

“Just smell your armpit for me. What do you smell?”

“It smells good. Kind of like garlic.”

Next lesson: how garlic smells like B.O.

 

 

It’s the end of the world as we know it

As far as husbands go, Jamie is really easy-going and most of his demands have to do with his stomach. Being fed at 6 p.m. Having a steady supply of ice cream in the house.

I’m sure I’ve mentioned his ice cream addiction before but I’m not exaggerating when I say that he is obsessed and has to have it every night before bed.

Can someone put me on that diet plan to stay lean and svelte like him? #MetabolismFail

Before we started Whole 30, I did The Unmentionable: I ran out of ice cream. Two very long days later, I finally went to the store, only to find this in the ice cream section:
I sent Jamie a picture, entitling the email “your worst nightmare.”

His response: “It’s the apocalypse! Stock up with everything they’ve got!”

If you need any ice cream, you’ll know where to find it.