Category Archives: Humor

Milestones for Mommyhood

December 5, 2009

I am hitting some mommy milestones this year . . . I just turned the big 4-0 in November. That is taking me some time to adjust to, but it’s not so bad now. Also, in November we celebrated our 18th wedding anniversary. That sounds so long to me, but really it seems like we were still just starting out, and technically, I suppose that 18 years of marriage isn’t really a milestone, but it sure feels like one to me.

Some other milestones — J just turned 12 on Wednesday! He will be ordained as a deacon tomorrow, which he is really excited about — he really is looking forward to passing the sacrament in church. Also, his teacher in school has recommended that he test for the gifted and talented program this upcoming week so he can take honors classes in Jr. High next year. Jr. High! (help me!) He is really excited and is crossing his fingers to get back into a good chess club again. It’s been nearly two years since he has had a good chess program, and he misses it a lot. I think it will be really good for him. I really do . . .

And Alex is turning 15 in January . . . this is a milestone because, as she has been reminding me since last year, she will be able to learn how to drive. YIKES!! and next year, dating . . . but . . . deep breaths . . . one thing at a time . . . breath, breath, breath . . . OK. I’m OK now . . . I think I am OK now. Can you please hand me that paper bag?

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Childhood Ambitions

October 23, 2009
This entry is part [part not set] of 5 in the series Kid Quotes

Alex came to me today and said “Z said he wants to be an author when he grows up.”

This was news to me, because last time he told me about his life’s ambitions, he said he wanted to be a fireman. He has actually wanted to be a fireman for a couple of years now. He is 6.

Z’s first childhood ambition was a lot more interesting. After his second Christmas, he went around saying “Ho, Ho, Ho!” in a loud voice, and then he declared that he wanted to be Santa Claus when he grew up. He was 22 months old. I assured him through suppressed laughter that he could be that and many other things. He continued with the Ho, Ho, Ho-ing for several months — It was a real holler.

Then at the age of 3, he saw the movie Fat Albert, and he decided that was what he wanted to be when he grew up (“Hey, Hey, Hey!”). At 4 he saw his first fire engine, and was duly impressed. Other than a Jedi Knight, that has been his one ambition that he keeps going back to.

But an author is a new one for him. I didn’t even know he knew that word, although it shouldn’t surprise me, since I write, and have taken the kids to a few book signings to meet authors that they have enjoyed, so maybe his wanting to be an author and write stories wasn’t such a stretch after all.

I looked at him and raised my eyebrows. “Oh?”

“I want to be an author. I want to write books,” he declared.

“What kind of books do you want to write?” I asked.

“Church books. I’m going to be the holiest man on earth.”

At this point I am sorry to say that I was unable to help myself, and I nearly choked on the mouthful of the apple I was munching on. Z is the one kid that I have had to drag out the door kicking and screaming “I don’t want to go! Church is so boring!”

“But you can’t stay home by yourself, it’s too dangerous, and there won’t be anyone to take care of you. It will be just as boring here,” I always tell him, shivering at the thought of coming home to a burning house or some other equally frightening scenario.

“The holiest man on earth?” I ask, struggling to keep my voice even.

“Why? Who is the holiest man on earth?” (He is totally serious.)

“Probably the Prophet,” I tell him.

“Well, then I’ll be the second holiest man on earth, ’cause I am really trying to be like Jesus.”

At this point I wondered if, at the age of 6, Moses’s or Elijah’s Mothers ever thought that their sons would take their turn as the holiest men on earth. Or Alma the younger, or Saul of Tarsus — what would their mothers have said?

Also posted in Family Life, Kid Quotes, Parenting – 2 Comments

He Lives . . . for Now

June 3, 2009

It has been one of those days.  Work went fine, since whilst I was tapping blissfully away at my keyboard in ignorance, building spreadsheets, making phone calls, and updating the program website, my lovely 6-year-old son who comes home from school with his older brother two hours before I do was wreaking havoc all over the place while his older sister who was supposed to be tending him had her nose buried in a book.

Ok . . . so in the perfect world, I would have been home at the door greeting them barefoot with cookies and milk, wearing a frilly polka-dot apron over my jeans.

This is not that world.

And to be fair, not everything went wrong. The kids had eaten dinner before I got home (so her nose came out of the book long enough for her to boss J into cooking spaghetti) even though the veggies had been tossed into the microwave at the end as a sort of afterthought instead of having been cooked properly, and then forgotten so when I went to warm up my plate an hour later, there in the microwave was a cold soggy bag of veggies to greet me. . .

But the part that I was really mad about was the fact that Zee had terrorized (weeded) my garden. All of my lovely little corn plants — vanished.  It was like nothing had ever been planted there.  Arrrrrrgggghhhh! And how can I really be mad about it?  It makes me feel like such a heel. And then he and Bee terrorized (loved) the baby pigeon and the pigeon egg while the parents were off having a breather. The baby pigeon is lucky to still be alive, and the egg . . .  at least it’s not cracked. I hope it still hatches – It is suppoed to hatch any time now. J’s hands are all pecked up from when he returned the poor things to their parents.

This whole thing makes me wonder a lot about the one afternoon that one of the chicks went missing for a whole day. I thought for sure that the cat had eaten one, but now I think that it spent the night under Zee’s bed in a nest made out of a hand towel. Other than the chick having mysteriously re-appeared in the coop the very next morning and my finding a towel under his bed with some feathers in it a few days later, what in the world would make me suspect such a thing???

I used to pray he would live to be at least five, and not accidentally kill himself in one of his crazy antics. Now I just pray for the strength to not kill him myself!

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