Blog Prompt Blog Hop #3 & a 90th Birthday

Thank you to all of you that have participated in the other two blog hops I’ve hosted.  Hopefully we’ll start getting more participants soon.  Don’t be shy, friends! 

Remember, link up to your actual post, not your main URL.  Also, please link to this blog hop so others might join in. 

You can do one, two or all three.  And hey, you can even do it in one, two, or three different posts!

This week’s prompts are:

1. Talk about some memories you have of your grandparents (or a particular grandparent) growing up.


2. What makes you laugh?


3. Tell about any church callings or positions you’ve held.  Did you enjoy that/those callings? (Could be adapted for any religion.)

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My plan is to do all three this week but we’ll see ;). 

For now, I’m going to talk about my sweet Grandma who just turned 90!  I have never been to a 90th birthday party.  I wouldn’t be surprised if I get to attend a 100th birthday party in 10 years.

I’m tellin’ you, my Grandma is like SuperWoman!  Her mind is sharp as a tack still and she even drives… still… at 90!  Does that weird anyone else out?  She only drives during the day but still.  That’s insane, no? 

I can only hope to age as gracefully as she has.  And to have a mind as keen as hers still is at her age would be such a blessing.

Just look at her.  She doesn’t look a day over 80 ;)

{Ok, so I’m not photogenic, I swear I didn’t look that ridiculous.}

Some of my favorite memories include fun things I did with that side of the family growing up.  And there is a distinct smell that brings me back to those days at Grandma’s house.  I can’t really describe what the smell is, it’s not exactly a pleasant smell but it reminds me of Grandma’s house every time.  For that reason, I love it! 

Each grandchild was asked to contribute a tribute page on a standard size piece of paper for her birthday book.  Instead of writing a traditional letter, I chose to make a list of the my cherished memories with my grandma.  Not all of them relate directly to her but at least in some way, they tie back to time spent with her (and my grandpa who passed away several years ago) or at her home with cousins.



These memories I will treasure for always.  It’s funny that so many of my memories have to do with food.  I like food, what more can I say? 

 

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Now it’s your turn!

 

 

 

 

My Scriptures

It seems that in my religious culture (LDS) there is an unwritten rule that you receive your very own set of scriptures when you are baptized, usually at the age of eight.  Often it’s the parents of the child that give the scriptures and sometimes it’s the grandparents or someone else that is close to the child. 

In my family, the precious gift was given to each grandchild by my Grandma.  Yet, somehow, I was skipped.  Maybe Grandma didn’t have money at that time or maybe it just slipped her mind.  I’m not completely sure, to be honest.  I just know that I did not receive my own set of scriptures until I was 11 or 12.

 

It was Sister Kearney that bought them for me.  She was my Merrie Miss teacher and she told us at the beginning of the year that she would buy a set of scriptures for every child that brought a set with them to class each week.  They didn’t have to be our own, they could be borrowed.  And borrow I did!  I made sure that I had a set of scriptures with me every single week.  Whether I was in my home ward or visiting another ward, I had a set of scriptures with me.  I wanted those scriptures!

At the end of that year, if memory serves me correctly, I was the ONLY student to have earned the prize.  I don’t know how much it really mattered to the others because I believe they all owned their own sets already.  Probably given to them for their baptism. 

I was so excited when Sister Kearney called to confirm which color I would like.  I chose black.  Black is safe. 

They were beautiful!  My name was engraved on the front and I set to work!  They were well used, especially throughout my seminary years.  They were marked up, written in, scribbled on, and wrinkled.  I LOVED them.  In fact, I still DO love them.





Grandma actually ended up giving me another set of scriptures for my 16th birthday to make up for not giving me a set at baptism.  I was afraid of that set.  Sounds silly, I know.  I didn’t know what to do with them!  They were so NEW!  So crisp, so clean, so sacred.  I was afraid to DO anything to them.  And they meant almost nothing to me aside from the fact that Grandma had given them to me.  They didn’t make any sense. 

I tried marking a few verses and making them my own but they weren’t as readable and understandable as my hammered, well worn set of black scriptures from Sister Kearney.  The words were the same, of course but it just wasn’t the same.  After trying to make them work, they were finally set aside (and eventually given to my sister) and I turned back to my old set.

Fast forward several years to 2006.  Anthony bought me a brand new set of beautiful green scriptures for Christmas.  My ‘new’ married name engraved on them and everything!  I was giddy!  It’s just what I had asked for.  I wanted a new set with my name on it and there they were.

 

Fast forward again to today…. guess how many scriptures have been marked.

 

ZERO, ZILCH, NADA!

I am scared to death to mark in them.  I’ve had them for almost five years now and they are still waiting to be loved.  They go with me to church every Sunday and they are used for personal scripture time and family scriptures but they are still unloved.  I love the words, the meanings, the messages, the stories, the people… I just don’t love those green books… yet!  I just don’t fully ‘get’ them.

I ran across my old black ones the other day and took a peek at them.  It made me a little bit sad to see how loved they once were and how neglected they now are.  It made me sad to think of the new (five year old) ones sitting in their case, practically untouched.  It’s time for a change. 

My new goal is to LOVE those green scriptures like I’ve never loved before.  I’m going to mark them up with pen, pencil, scripture markers, stickers, tabs and everything in between. 

I can’t wait to love them!  I’ve found a fabulous resource for all of the above and I can’t wait to share that with you also.   

moments like this…

Being a mom is hard work.  When I first became a mom almost 10 years ago (EEK!… has it really been that long?) I had no idea what I was in for.  I imagined playful days full of laughs, giggles, long walks, sharing, running, skipping, jumping and discovering.  My kids would be perfect and everyone would know it! 

Well, I got all of the above, believe it or not… along with a few other thing I wasn’t anticipating.  Things like hair pulling, yelling, pinching, biting, food throwing, spitting, more yelling, tattling, toy throwing, crying, screaming, mischievous looks, eye rolling, door slamming (oh by the way, little B lost a fingernail yesterday because of said door slamming… poor little guy), more yelling, food wasting, foot stomping,… and the list goes on and on and on.  And on…

And on…

If C isn’t hitting someone or pulling someone’s hair, he’s spitting on the floor or ON someone. 

And he loves to pick on his little brother.  After all, isn’t that what little brothers are for? 

Luckily, B is a pretty tough little guy and we anticipate him being bigger than C pretty soon.  He’s got fight in him for sure!  If only he could get those chunky little legs of his to stabilize him and that big round noggin he’s got a little better.  C’s got him beat as far as stabilization goes. 

B’s lack of balance is often the cause of his demise when it comes to a scuffle with C.  The strength is there.  Plus, he’s got those little chompers in his mouth and trust me, he knows how to use them.  I’ve been the recipient of his ‘love bites’ more than once.  There has been blood.  Sometimes LOTS of blood.  OUCH!

Anyway, it’s one of those things that just seems like a daily occurrence and so, when I get a chance to take a snapshot of a moment of sharing… I’ve gotta seize the opportunity! 



Moments like this make it all worth it.  They may be few and far between but I’ll take it!   Or maybe it happens more often than I realize.  After all, they are hiding…  ‘Don’t let Mom see us sharing!!’ 

Things My Kids Will Never Know

Think about all the things you grew up with (or without) that your kids will never have the privilege of knowing.  We can thank technology and just the changing times for that.  This is my list of the top 15 things my kids will never know.

• Watermelon seed spitting contests because who buys watermelons with seeds anymore?  I sure don’t!


• VCR’s… I made mention of a VCR the other day and my kids were completely lost.


• Cassette tapes… enough said, right?


• Riding a bike to the field down the street. First of all, not only do we NOT have a field down the street but, um, hi!  Scary these days! 


• Cars without seatbelts. My family had one for a short time growing up.  Seriously, NO seatbelts at all.  It was a very old car, even then.  My kids are properly belted at all times.  Except maybe on our way to and from church… sometimes.  Don’t judge me, k?


• Road trips where you made yourself a bed in the back of the car and lounged around in any position you wanted.  All the while NOT wearing the seatbelt that IS in fact built in to your car.


• The original Strawberry Shortcake… what a tragedy.


• Cell phones that are literally the size of a brick, though I’m pretty sure they weighed more.  Maybe not.  Quite literally for emergencies only because who wants to tote that thing around in their purse?


• Video game cartridges that you had to BLOW into to get it to work.  Somehow, hot air was always the answer ;)


• Atari… Classic Atari. 


• Penny candy.  There’s just no such thing anymore. 


• Commercials.  Everything is on demand or Tivo’d {hmmm, not sure how to write that one} so we can fast forward through all of them!


• Baby Alive dolls that had a pump on the back to make her chew and swallow.  Now she’s electronic.


• Sleepovers with friends.  Yes, I had them as a kid and loved it!  However, we feel it best to not allow friend sleepovers for our kids.  They get to have sleepovers with cousins but that’s it.  Call me crazy!


• PeeWee Herman... thank goodness for that, no?

 

What else can you think of? 

Celebrity Look Alikes

When I first met Anthony’s mom, she insisted that I looked like Cher.  My father-in-law agreed. 

Hmmm, that was a new one for me.

 

 

My cousin has always told me that I resemble Julia Roberts…

I WISH!! 

Anthony, has been told many, many times that he looks like either…



 

Patrick Swayze or…

Brett Favre.

 

I can see the resemblance somewhat for both.  You?

 

Most recently, my father-in-law said to Anthony and I, “I hope you aren’t offended by this but do you know who C looks like?  Peewee Herman!” 

 

Oh boy!  As sad as it may be, I see what he is saying.  It’s gotta be the haircut. 

But I think his buzzed head makes him look like Curious George.

 

What do you think?  Are you ever told that you look like anyone?

Naming Children

Remember when you were little, playing with your dolls, and you would think of the best, most beautiful, awesomest {it’s a word now, just ask me}, glorious name you had ever heard in your life to name your dolls?  Or better yet, you even got to be the one with that name.  Playing house was always much more fun when I got to be someone like Tatiana, because Tatiana was the most beautiful name I had ever heard. 

My cousin always wanted to be Francesca. 

And my stuffed animals got to have some of the best names ever thought of.  I mean, who wouldn’t want a dog named Poncho Herman?  Poncho for my uncle whom I adored and Herman because Peewee Herman pretty much the coolest guy on the entire planet.  No? 

These days, it’s my girls who are naming their animals and dolls. I overhear my girls talking about what they’ll name their kids one day.  George and Henry are frontrunners right now. 

Like I said before, at one point, one of my children was to be named Tatiana.  Except by the time I actually had kids, Tatiana was no longer on my list. 

The other day, while shopping at Target, I ran across these guys. 

Coco Cameron



Sasha Shelly



Remember them?  Oh how I loved my Cabbage Patch Kids!  I had many, many of them throughout my childhood and I never had to come up with a name.  I loved that!  They came with a ‘beautiful’ name already chosen for me.  Names that flowed just as well as my beloved Poncho Herman.  There were five CPK that I absolutely adored, 3 girls and 2 boys.  And I loved their names so much that I decided to name my kids after them one day. 

As luck would have it, I have 3 girls and 2 boys.  Unfortunately, I couldn’t get Anthony on board with the names I had chosen from the cabbage patch.  Ugh!  I don’t know what’s wrong with him ;) 

Here’s a list of what my children’s names ‘should’ have been….

K would have been:  Lynette Hattie

A would have been:  Dinah Melva

H would have been:  Felice Dawn

C would have been:  Ed Gilbert

B would have been:  Carl Mac

 

Like I said, I don’t know what’s wrong with Anthony.  I’m positive that A would have loved for her middle name to be Melva.  Who wouldn’t?  And doesn’t B just look like a Carl Mac.  He totally does.  C would’ve made a great Ed!  **Sigh** 

Whatever, Anthony!  Sheesh, give our kids normal names… how boring…

Where Were You?

September 11, 2001

It’s a date that MOST of us will never forget.  One of those moments you remember forever.  You probably remember exactly where you were and what you were doing when you heard the news. 

I was at home in the basement apartment we lived in at the time, 8 months pregnant with K.  It was early in the morning, 7 something.  Yes, that’s early for me and I wasn’t used to being up that early. 

Anthony had already left for work and I was up because my dad needed a ride to the airport that morning.  He was meeting me at my house. 

Since he hadn’t arrived yet, I decided to turn the TV on until he got there.  As soon as it turned on, there was the image of the massive hole in the side of the first tower where the plane had hit.  I was confused.  What a crazy freak accident, I thought.  And how tragic. 

As I watched the live coverage, the newscasters didn’t make any mention of terrorists or hijackings or anything of the sort.  I believe they, too, thought it to be just a freak accident. 

And then it happened.  I watched as the second plane came into view on the TV screen and head right toward the second tower. 

I couldn’t believe it. 

My dad showed up around that time and we watched for just a few minutes more as the newscasters voice got more serious and panic stricken. 

What was happening?  I know it’s naïve and foolish of me to have thought that this was just a majorly coincidental incident.  Two planes, two towers!  It was a freak accident, nothing more. 

Then my dad made mention of terrorists.  Again, naïve and foolish… Terrorists?  What’s that?

I asked the words out loud.  My dad explained what it meant and I couldn’t believe it.  How had I gone a full 21 years of my life and not known that there were other countries out there that had it out for America?  Foolish, I know. 

It was time to leave for the airport and I was scared.  There were airplanes being hijacked and hitting massive buildings!  My dad was about to be ON a plane bound for a business trip.  And if I remember right, he was headed in that direction.  I asked him if he really wanted me to take him and jokingly said, “They probably won’t fly anyone else today.” 

My dad assured me that flights would still take place and he would be fine.  So, I drove him to the airport. 

The timing and placement of the other two planes {Pentagon and somewhere in Pennsylvania?} are kind of a blur.  I don’t remember how long after the Twin Towers were hit that those hijackings took place.  I remember hearing about them because I was glued to the TV/radio all of that day, I just don’t remember at what point. 

All I know is that I was nervous knowing that my dad would be flying.  However, no sooner had I walked back into my little apartment after dropping him off, than the phone rang.  It was my dad letting me know that he needed me to come back and get him.  They would NOT be flying.  The whole country was grounded. 

What a relief! 

I can’t even imagine how many more hijackings were planned for that day. 

Yesterday, as I was driving to Target for some essentials {toilet paper, paper towels, diapers, etc.}, on the radio they were playing tributes to all the 9/11 victims. 

I was a giant BOOB!  Seriously, I cried the whole way there.  I looked like an babbling idiot walking into Target. 

So many sad stories.  So many heroes!  So much to be grateful for. 

Although I have no direct ties to anyone directly involved in the 9/11 attacks, my heart aches at the thought of so many children losing parents and for anyone that lost ANY loved one that day. 

 

Where were you when you heard the news?

 

Not as Easy as it Looks…

They say that you once you learn how to ride a bike you never forget how.  That is TRUE!!

 

However, I’m here to tell you…

If it’s been a while {like maybe, oh I don’t know, 12 years or so} since you’ve been on a bike, it’s NOT as easy as it once was. 

 

Remember when you could just hop on a bike, ride for several hours with your friends, jump dirt hills and curbs {with no butt pain}, and most importantly, NOT have to wear a helmet? 

I remember those days. 

 

Well, when K and H were both invited to birthday parties this past Saturday {different parties}, A had nowhere to go and was feeling a little left out.  So, I told her we would have a Mommy-Daughter Date.  Anthony would stay home with the boys and we would do……. something. 

It was her choice.  Obviously, she chose a bike ride.  A bike is something that I’ve wanted to get for myself for several years now but we’ve never really been in a situation to buy one.  I’m completely unprepared and out of practice for such an adventure…

Really A?  Mommy doesn’t even have a bike.  She assured me that K would allow me to ride hers.  It’s a full sized woman’s bike.  So, before K left for her party, A asked her if Mommy could ride her bike {please say no, please say no!}. 

She said yes… UGH!  But that was ok because Mommy doesn’t have a helmet.  Because nowadays, you just don’t ride a bike without a helmet!  I mean, what were our parents thinking? 

Unluckily, Dad had one I could borrow.  Double UGH! 

Alright, I guess I better tough it out and just do it.  But doesn’t K’s bike have a flat?  {Or could I somehow make it get a flat?}  Unacceptable, I know. 

Anthony helped me get his helmet on my head.  I had never worn one before… ever!  Can I just say, without getting in trouble, that I was so close to telling my kids they never had to wear a helmet again.  It was not fun!

This is pretty much how I felt about the whole helmet deal.  {Please note that I had absolutely no make-up on and my hair was not done }



 

A and I had a great time, despite the fact that my bum hurt every time I went over even the tiniest of bumps.  Oh, and I’m pretty sure it’s not a good sign when your 7-year-old yells, “Hey Mom, try to keep up, okay?”  And then later in the ride, “Good job, Mom!  Just a little faster!” 

I never was able to catch up with her. 

 

Ice Cream Man

I know my last post had this same picture in it but it reminded me of something and I just have to tell the story.



We've lived in this home for about 5 1/2 years now.  That's not really all that relevant but, stay with me.  K was only 4 at the time and still had no idea who or what the ice cream man was.  Summertime came, the jack-in-the-box music would play and I didn't have to provide any explanation as to what the music was for.  To her, it was just a van that drove down the street playing music. 

The following year, however, I got all excited to introduce her (along with A and H) to the fun that is the ice cream man.  Every kid has to experience that thrill of running out into the middle of the road to stop the ice cream man and get a refreshing, cold treat on a hot summer day.  Wouldn't you agree?  I thought so.

Well, as summertime rolled around, we explained to K what the music really meant, we would listen intently for the music, and every time... every. stinkin'. time... he would turn before he came by our house.  

You have to understand, on either side of us spanning about 3 houses away and across the street (does that even make any sense?) there is a road leading around in a U shape.  Hmmm, I'm trying to decide if anyone will even understand that.  Not sure how else to explain it so, we're gonna go with it.  

Anyway, the ice cream man would never come by our house.  And by the time we would hear him, he would have turned already and have would come out of that neck of the woods a couple blocks away.  Poor little K was so frustrated.  She just wanted an ice cream! 

Finally, Anthony decided to take it upon himself to chase the guy down in his big, bad black truck.  Really, it was huge.  We called it "The Pearl" because he was really into Pirates of the Caribbean.  Wait!  Did I say 'was'?  IS, I meant is. 

Where were we?  Oh yes, he was about to chase the guy down. 

So, he gets in his truck, and lo and behold, here comes the ice cream man in his musical van with Anthony following close behind.  A bit embarrassing, maybe.  But I tell you, those girls could not have been happier.  In fact, I think I need to find those pictures and post them here.  When I find them, I will. 

But that ice cream man, from then on, would NOT leave us alone.  He would literally come by just about every day and stop in front of my house... STOP... in front of my house, with the music playing. 

We only need you once in a while, not every stinkin' day, sir!  I mean, seriously.  We aren't made of money!  Besides, it's difficult when you like to come either at bedtime or on Sunday.  Neither of which works for us.  But thanks for making my kids cry when we tell them no because you're practically ON OUR FRONT PORCH! 

It got a little annoying and we had to ask him to only stop once a week. 

So funny to think that we had such a hard time getting him to stop in the first place and then we couldn't get him to leave.