Everyone’s social media is “hey look, my kids is valedictorian….
…and I’m like “hey look, my kids is juggling his iPod, Nintendo DS AND TV at the same time.
Welcome to the teen scene!
May 26, 2017 By
From teen back to toddler, that’s how I’d discuss this phase of our parenting journey. Once out of the irascible toddler years, I thoroughly enjoyed elementary school and watching these kids of mine flex their independence and grow. But with Hadley finishing seventh grade and Bode starting Middle School next year (don’t get me started about my displeasure that it is grades 6-8), I’m bracing myself for even more tween/teen angst and meltdowns reminiscent of the toddler years.
To be fair, Bode is still really delightful and naive to all the drama and I’m honestly not sure what his teenager years will bring. He’s smart, kind, helpful, thoughtful and happy 99% of the time. But he’s also really sensitive and cares a little bit too much about his grades and I worry he’ll have a nervous breakdown working himself to death. And I’m sure he’ll be moody because what teenager isn’t?
Hadley’s first birthday as a teen was a testament of the roller-coaster we’re on. She wakes up at 6:30 a.m. for school and I gave her a backrub to ease into her day and then some apple-marmalade crepes before driving her to the bus stop. I would have driven her to school for her birthday but she actually really love the bus(?!) and her friends (including some really cool high school boys in our ward) sang her “Happy Birthday!”
After school, she opened her presents: New clothes from Jamie’s mom and a huge make-up case from Aunt Lisa. We gave her a new sleeping bag and pad, a pillow top mattress for her uncomfortable bed and the most exciting (for her) of all: a phone plan. We can’t afford to get her a new phone and frankly, I don’t know that I really want to at this juncture so we’re updating her iPod to include texting and Internet. I’m easing her into social medial with Instagram and will ease back out just as quickly if this proves to be premature.
At her request, we signed her up for rugby, which she doesn’t like because she doesn’t want to get hurt. I’m a “I paid the money so you’re going” kind of parent but didn’t force it on her birthday because I figure it’s the one day of the year to have fun. She didn’t want a party with friends and said she just wanted to go to dinner at Tucanos for her birthday so we’re doing that tonight. For her actual birthday, I had suggested we have a quick dinner at home and then go see “Guardians of the Galaxy 2″ at our local theater. As we were driving there, we pulled up to the theater and she said in disdain, “I don’t really want to go here.” “Why, what’s wrong?” “It’s not a nice theater and I don’t really want to see the movie after all.”
Now, we haven’t yet been to the theater and I’m sure it’s a small-town one without all the fancy bells and whistles she’s used to in the big city but it seemed like a rash judgment without actually seeing it. Keeping our cool (it was, after all, her birthday), we asked what she wanted to do and she said “Let’s just go home and rent “Allegiant.” The problem: That movie is not yet rentable so we ended up watching “Fault in our Stars,” which is actually a really great movie about two star-crossed cancer-stricken teenage lovers…funny, heartwarming and depressing all at once.
Welcome to the teenage years.
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My Facebook memories for today when life’s problems could be solved with Twinkletoes and Fat Kitty!
The Glories of Rec Soccer
May 10, 2017 By
“If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?”
The same can be asked of if a blogger fails to write about the last several months, does it mean it ever really happened?
I’m long overdue on an updates post that will probably be a compilation of pictures and narratives. We’re in the middle of landscaping hell; Jamie has been living it since we moved in but the real push will be the next couple of months as we finish putting in the sprinkler lines in the backyard and seeding it, sodding the front and planting everything. We ran out of money we’d set aside from the sale of our house last week so we’re scrimping and saving to get at least the basics completed. Oh, the joy!
My intention was to write about Bode’s last soccer game yesterday but then I realized I didn’t even write about the first one! If you’re in fifth grade and above in the Heber Valley and like soccer, you play competitive because recreational soccer only goes through fourth grade, and then 5-7 th graders are co-ed because there aren’t enough players. We missed competitive tryouts for this calendar year and when I tried to sign Bode up for the co-ed league, he was too young so he’s been playing with the fourth graders on the rec team.
The good: He is a very skilled ball handler and a smart player. He’s incredibly strategic and always makes smart passes and is very coachable (his hardcore coach a couple of years ago said he was the one kid on the team who would listen and implement what he instructed). But he has never had the big kicks and scoring ability of the superstars so he’s always been very middle-of-the-pack in the Denver leagues. But playing in a small-town rec league, he’s been one of the strongest players so has had a chance to shine. Plus, playing with the fourth graders, he’s no longer the smallest on the field.
The bad: The level of play is waaaaaay lower than his previous league so he isn’t progressing like he would be if he was in a more challenging situation.
Competitive tryouts are next week and I’ve been vacillating on what to do. If he was a prodigy and wanted to keep pushing himself, competitive would be the obvious choice. But he’s not. He enjoys playing but isn’t obsessed with it. He could no doubt make the competitive teams here but he would no longer be the superstar, would have way less playing time, we’d be traveling every Saturday, he’d practice several times a week, it’s a full year commitment and it costs a lot more money.
Can you tell I REAAAAALLY don’t want him to be competitive?
I was relieved when he says he’d just like to stick with rec and so next fall, he’ll be playing co-ed with girls. If nothing else, it will be great blog fodder because if the kid can’t string two sentences together to talk to a girl, what will it be like to play with them?
Here are a few pictures to commemorate the season.
Jamie has been bossing people around from the sidelines for many years. It’s about time he made it official. #CoachJamie
I realized during our final game, I hadn’t taken any other pictures so snapped a couple of them. This one was taken of Bode (on the left) moments before he took his worst shot on goal ever.
Fortunately, he later redeemed himself and went on to score three goals, the final one was the most impressive of his soccer career.
And you can’t wrap the season without a shot of Team WhatchaMaCallThem. Unlike in years past when Bode named the name (Angry Piggies was a favorite), these dudes went unnamed.
See our goalie on the back row in yellow? He got Scott Sterling-ed yesterday with the most brutal soccer ball kick to the head that knocked him senseless to the ground. He was fortunately OK but after the game when Jamie asked him if he was blindsided, he replied, “I saw it coming but I felt like a paper doll and couldn’t move.”
The Paper Dolls. It kind of has a nice ring to it.
Off to the Races!
April 24, 2017 By
When Bode turns 11 in July, he will officially enter Boy Scouts which means one thing: he only has one more Pinewood Derby in Cub Scouts. Now to give you perspective, Bode comes from the Mercedes of Pinewood Derby families. Grandpa Duane was renowned throughout Colorado for helping Jamie and his brother Chris build the bestest and the fastest (they even won regionals!) so Jamie has been on the same quest.
For Bode’s first car they did a good job, frequently winning heats but did not come out on top. Last year, they upped their game and his car won every single heat and he somehow only placed second, a big disappointment because he actually beat the winning car in a head-to-head. C’est la vie. That was my attitude at least. I’m sure Jamie would have demanded a race-off it wasn’t a church event.
This was Bode’s last chance for redemption so he and Jamie worked hard building his car. It was a busy evening. Bode had a soccer game (which he missed due to all our conflicts) and while Jamie took the car for the weigh-in, I had the privilege of accompanying Bode to “Maturation Night” at the school. He was only slightly mortified to have his mom attend a talk on puberty and I was slightly more mortified (definitely a lot of testosterone and father-son bonding in the room). Thankfully, the talk ended on a high note when each boy received his very own deodorant because one of the biggest takeaways was BOYS STINK. Literally.
We then raced over to the church for the Pinewood Derby. Check-in and weigh-off was chaotic but our ward did a fantastic job with the actual event with a high-tech computer program that recorded, tabulated and displayed each time on a big screen. Each boy received a “Pit Pass” lanyard where they were granted special access to the race area. Each car would race off against two others with six races total. The winner would have the lowest accumulative time.
Pre-race jitters
It’s tough to know just how fast your car is going to be. “I just hope the wheels stay on,” Jamie muttered but they did more than that. Bode’s black beauty easily won his first heat…and every subsequent one after that. 
The Top 3
There was no doubt he had the fastest car in the Pack. Of course, we thought that last year and he placed second overall but we were relived when he took home the title of Fastest Car. I think I may have seen tears in Jamie’s eyes that the family legacy would continue through Bode. His buddy won “Best in Show for his hilarious Banana-shaped car.
When Jamie posted about the victory on Facebook our friend and former Bishop asked “Should the congratulations go to Jamie or Bode?” Jamie’s funny response: “I can honestly say that he did more on this car than in past years. But as a good video on building pinewood derby cards once said. ‘Scout, if you feel like this car isn’t really yours, take comfort that someday you’ll have a son of your own.’” The future pressure is on, Bode.
Confessions of a (Horrible) Cat and Fish Sitter
April 12, 2017 By
My friend Jana was looking for someone to check in on her cat and fish over Spring Break so I volunteered my middle schooler Hadley. She loves animals and her career aspiration in first grade was to run a Cat Hotel until she later learned it’s not cool to be the crazy cat lady until you’re over 50 years old.
I figured she’d be better equipped to take care of animals since she got off to a rocky start babysitting humans when my friend Sarah asked her:
“Hey, Hadley. Do you babysit?”
“I’m not really good with kids.”
As a former publicist, I was appalled at her pitch. She later told me she was caught off-guard and meant to say I’m not comfortable taking care of babies. She repented of her trespass by volunteering to watch Sarah’s kids for free while she attended a church event. Hadley limped through the door several hours later.
“How was it?”
“Exhausting. I spent the entire night running around after three boys. How do you do this EVERYDAY?”
And suddenly, the heavens opened and the herald angels sang the Hallelujah shout to the tune of “PAYBACK” for all those sleepless, colicky nights.
As it turns out, she enjoys babysitting (or at least the money she makes) so how much better would a gig be for beasts you don’t have to chase?
Hadley’s responsibilities were simple. Replenish Kitty’s food and water every day, clean the kitty litter box and feed the fish. Jana hadn’t formed an attachment to Fishy and went as far as to say she wouldn’t be sad if he didn’t survive, which made us wonder if we were hired to be fish sitters or assasins. Jana told us we probably wouldn’t even see Kitty who accesses the house via a cat door after partying all night with her feline friends and sleeps all day. Easiest cat-sitting gig ever.
Or was it?
Day 1: Hadley opens garage door, goes about her responsibilities with Kitty. Starts to feed Fishy. He is dead.
Or is he?
We text Jana to ask if we should give him a watery burial. She responds, “He sometimes just looks dead and doesn’t move for a while.”
Cool fish.
Day 2: Fishy appears dead in a different position so we figure he’s still alive in his own way. No sign of Kitty but food has been eaten so we’re in business.
Day 3: Fishy is moving. It’s an Easter resurrection miracle.
Days 4 and 5: Hadley stays at Grandma’s so I take over duties. All seems in order.
Day 6: Hadley continues her responsibilities. Goes to enter mudroom via the garage but the door is locked, which means we can’t access the house and that I was the person who inadvertently locked it the day before. Panic sets in but fortunately, Kitty’s food and water are in the garage so we can take care of her. Tragically, Fishy will go from resurrection to famine within three days. The irony is not lost on me.
Day 7: When we arrive THE GARAGE DOOR IS ALREADY OPEN. “We closed it when we left yesterday, I’m 100% sure of it,” Hadley wails.
We hesitantly make our way through the garage to the mudroom door, which mysteriously opens. Even though it’s been less than 24 hours since our last visit, Fishy appears really dead this time and is floating on his side at the bottom of the bowl. We feed him anyway because he’s a master manipulator and as we’re attempting to leave the house, we realize the doorknob will not budge and we’re locked inside with a fish who could come to life at any moment.
It takes a few panicked minutes until we position the doorknob just right and we make our escape…but not before I put something in the door jam for the next time we get locked out. Or in. Really, the whole thing is confusing.
I hesitantly text Jana that we were able to get back in the house.
“Oh, our friend needed to grab something today,” she responds. “He probably left the garage door open! I also remembered that mudroom door is sometimes hard to open, so you have to twist the knob really hard.”
Hallelujah shout Take 2.
Day 8: Fishy confirmed dead and Kitty is alive. Allegedly. We didn’t see her all week but she ate all her food. It was probably for the best because we saw Fishy every day and look what happened to him.
Day 9: Jana’s family returns home. Hallelujah shout Take 3 as we are relieved of our pet sitting duties.
When I was relaying the tale of our memorable Spring Break to my son Bode, I joked, “Don’t you want to be a pet sitter?”
“I think I could have done a better job than you and Hadley,” he retorted.
The [low] bar has been set.
P.S. Did I mentioned we’re available for hire?
Love and Marriage: The Laundry Wars
April 12, 2017 By
This beauty from my draft folder is from a few years ago. Ahh, the memories!
In most ways, Jamie and I have a very traditional marriage. I take care of most household chores and the children. He works, pays the bills and quarterly taxes and raises freakishly large orange creatures.
Remember, I said MOST WAYS. 
I do the laundry. I hate doing laundry but when we were engaged, I saw how Jamie did laundry and I wanted no part in it (his method involved large heaps of clean clothes that were never put away all week long). Though I don’t claim to be the perfect laundress, my process involves washing, drying, folding and putting away the laundry on the same day. I’m also moderately obsessive about doing laundry when we’re on vacation (if possible) and can’t stand coming home with a suitcase full of dirty clothes.
Jamie, on the other hand, likes to mix his clean clothes with his dirty ones in his suitcase.
It’s like nails on the chalkboard, peeps.
I do laundry a couple of times a week so usually stay on top of things, for which Jamie is openly grateful. But the other day, he made an unusual request.
“Where is my Nike shirt?”
“Which Nike shirt?”
“My grey one. It’s not in my drawer.”
“Then it’s probably in the dirty laundry.”
He proceeded to dig through the laundry basket. “HERE IT IS. Why is it not washed?”
“Let’s see. It’s Thursday and I did the laundry on Monday. That means you must have worn it in the last two days.”
I am the master of deduction.
Jamie is picky about what he wears but for some reason, he was hell-bent on wearing that shirt. And this, my friends, is where another laundry pet peeve comes into play. On the rare occasion he does a load of laundry, he only washes his clothes and nobody else’s.
A few minutes later I walked into the laundry room to see he’d thrown a few of his shirts into the wash (another peeve: not running a full load).
“Jamie, do you see this pile of dirty clothes sitting by the washing machine? It would be swell if you’d put some of these other clothes in to wash as well.”
His response? “I don’t want that dirty stuff touching my stuff.”
Dude needs a lesson in airing dirty laundry.
The Anti-Ladies’ Man
February 14, 2017 By
For as long as I can remember, Bode has been really nervous around girls. Watch kissing on TV? Forget it. Tease him about the hotties in his class? That kid turns the color of hot tamales.
As we were working on his valentines for his class party (that I’m somehow in charge of), I saw him scribbling on some of the messages.
“Bode, what are you doing?”
“Don’t worry, Mom. I’m crossing out all the valentines that say ‘you’re cute.’”
Smooooooth. It reminded me of one of my favorite Bode stories EVER and believe me, there are a lot of them. When Bode was 6, we met Hadley at Camp Chief Ouray. Because I was partnering with them for an article, we were granted special access to attend the final festivities on the last night. Camp tradition is to hold a final dance, followed by the Closing Campfire Ceremony with games, skits, songs and traditions including the awarding of the Spirit Stick to commemorate the most spirited cabin. I was the most excited about the dance.
Because isn’t it every kid’s dream to have her mother at her very first one?
Crazy costumed counselors
Even my Bode had some action of his own. He was hanging out with me on the rock when a tween hottie asked him to dance. Stunned into silence, he turned bright red before literally crawling away on the rock. But she didn’t give up. Fifteen minutes later, she was back and oh-so sweetly repeated her offer. He looked at me to save him.
“Go dance with her.”
He shook his crimson head, steam coming out of his ears. Why did a girl want to dance with him?
“That’s fine if you don’t want to dance but you need to at least say something and politely decline.” It was one of those teachable moments in which I wanted to bust out laughing.
“I don’t want to dance right now,” he mumbled. At least I think that’s what he said before I apologetically thanked the sweet girl and bookmarked the moment for future blackmail.
Some things never change.
My Husband: The Romantic
February 13, 2017 By
To be fair, Jamie can be a romantic, thoughtful guy and there was full disclosure before we got married that he hates to do dishes. In fact, his friend Carolyn was so disgusted with his kitchen that she would regularly clean it for him. I also happen to be OCD about the sink and hate to have dishes in there. As much as I’d love to have the kids unload the dishwasher, I have it in my mentally-ill mind that they can’t do it fast enough and if the dishwasher sits unloaded for hours on end, that means dishes will pile up.
So, I do the unloading in the hopes that throughout the day, my family will actually put their dishes in the dishwasher vs. dumping them in the sink. Despite my best efforts, it doesn’t happen and I’ve learned to live with it during the day. But after dinner, I always insist that we clean the kitchen and run the dishwasher. And I refuse to go to bed, even if we have a party until late, with dirty dishes in the sink.
It’s too bad my OCD doesn’t extend to the rest of the house.
The other night, we were watching my favorite show on TV, NBC’s This is Us. There was a scene when the doctor who delivered the main character’s triplets was walking through his home. His wife of 50+ years had passed away 14 months ago but there were memories of her everywhere. Her prescription bottles. Her clothes. Her perfumes.
It was dually heart-warming and sad. I turned to Jamie:
“When I die, will you keep a shrine up for me?”
“Of course! It will be a pile of dirty dishes.”
BYU Fans for Life
December 14, 2016 By
When I was at BYU, I attended my fair share of football, basketball and volleyball games. Some of my most memorable moments were going to the BYU football games every week with my friend Garritt, even though I was (and still am) clueless about the game. Give me a puck and a penalty box and this Canuck can talk for hours. But tight-ends and first downs? No thanks. Despite my lack of appreciation for football, we still had a lot of fun sitting in the student section.
My father-in-law bought season tickets to BYU basketball so Jamie has met him in Provo a few times. Last month, our whole family attended “Boomshakalak,” a fun kick-off to the season. It was my first time in the Marriott Center in 20 years and it was Bode’s first time ever so it was only appropriate that my tweet landed him on the Jumbotron. Repeatedly.
And we were so delighted to run into our besties from Colorado, the Larsons, who were visiting their three kids at BYU. I had no idea they would be there but saw they posted a picture on social media. We didn’t tell Hadley about Alexis so it was a funny, surprising reunion in the foyer. 
Fast-forward a few weeks later. We attended the wedding luncheon of the kids’ first babysitter Alexis, daughter of our longtime friends and neighbors, the Haymonds (how can these kids be old enough to get married?)
We high-tailed it over to BYU’s football game, another first for the kids. When Jamie bought the tickets a couple of months prior, it was risky. Late- November games are often miserable and snowy so we kept our fingers crossed and hoped for the best…and we got better than the best.
He bought nosebleed seats (because, you know, money) but as we were getting ready that morning, Jamie’s sister called to ask if we wanted her lobbyist neighbor’s awesome two seats on the 40-yard line. OH YEAH. We planned to just take turns.
We were late to the game because of the luncheon and arrived just before half-time. My friend Sarah texted me, “You should come sit by us. There’s an entire row of seats are empty.”
And these weren’t just any seats. Her husband Ben’s uncle is a major donor to BYU sports so these were even better seats at the 50 yard line. Bode was able to sit with Sarah’s boys and Hadley’s bestie Alex (they were in town for the wedding) hung out with her.
So, here’s how you do BYU football:
Sit in VIP seats.
Take full advantage of their VIP Legacy Tent wristbands with gourmet food but make sure you accidentally go to the wrong tent first (one reserved for sponsors) so you’ll get double the amount of food before realizing you’re in the wrong place.
Then go back to those seats and enjoy your individual coolers of beverage and treats.
The takeaway?
Buying cheap seats totally pays off.
Oh, and BYU won 51-9 but we were the real winners that day.
The art of negotiation and a glimpse inside our marriage
December 8, 2016 By
When you live next to the world-class cross-country ski wonderland featured in the 2002 Salt Lake Olympic Games, you’re overstretched on your budget but REALLY want your kids to learn to cross-country ski, this is what you do.
Bode’s buddies are taking a two-month-long course and I really really really want both of the kids to do it but Hadley is extremely resistant, which makes me sad because she’s the one who shows the most promise. In fact, when we cross-country skied in Crested Butte a couple of years ago, our instructor told her if she was local, she’d recruit her for their Junior Olympic Nordic Skiing team. The girl has potential.
But zero motivation.
And we have zero extra money. It has something to do with moving and the thousands of dollars we’ve spent doling out money for a fence, building two rooms in our basement, sprinklers, a new couch (after the new one we ordered was literally falling apart after a month), Christmas (which will be minimal at best) and did I mention Jamie left his iPhone in his jeans and I washed it?
I told my dad to skip out on giving us presents this year and just contribute to the Hadley-Bode downhill skiing fund, which he was glad to do. At least two members of our family will be skiing this winter.
Since I’m in the business of picking my battles with Hadley (and the zero money factor), I acquiesced on the cross-country lessons and decided to focus on Bode. His buddies are taking the course and he’s bored out of his mind after school. I figured it would be an easy sell to Jamie to spend $150 vs. the $300 for both of them. I mean, really. Twice weekly lessons + rentals for just $150?
Plus, for volunteering during class, I accumulate free trail passes for Soldier Hollow. It’s a steal, really.
But I had to sell it to the Banker.
Me: I’m here to negotiate.
Jamie: OK.
Me: I’m signing Bode up for cross-country skiing.
Jamie: How is that a negotiation?
Me: I negotiate like a terrorist.
I'm a Canadian-born mom of two, former Denver Post columnist, family travel writer, editor of MileHighMamas.com and 9News contributor. Expert on all things Utah, Denver, family and travel. Lover of laughter and life. Happily married to a man obsessed with growing The Great Pumpkin. 