Dirty Little Secret

So yesterday I was using the bathroom when I looked down only to see an army of ants swarming a sticky substance. The unknown substance looked suspiciously like a piece of Pop Tart ground into the rug, but I was unsure.

A normal person would have cleaned up the ant mess. Apparently I am not normal, because I decided to leave this mess. I figured that due to the frequency of my husband's bathroom trips, I wouldn't have to wait long before he discovered the Ant Tart and dealt with it himself.

Sure enough ten minutes later the door to the bathroom closes, and I hear Chris say, "Eeeww. There's this ant-goo mess on the rug."

Now there are many things that I struggle with--basic math computation, assembling children's toys, addiction to reality TV (When will they finally eliminate Mila on Project Runway? Enough already!), but honesty is generally a strong point for me. So it kind of surprised me when I said, "Oh, really?"

I pretty much tell Chris exactly how it is. I should have said, "Yeah. I know. Your department." This is only the second time I have stretched the truth with him. The first time was back in Utah when he brought home this hideous purple-gray paint square that he wanted to paint the bathroom in. When I noticed the dog eating this paint sample, I let the dog go for it. Then when Chris asked where the paint chip was I answered, "I don't know." But I did know. It had been digested and was hiding somewhere in the backyard waiting to be scooped up. But I confessed to that, and I am confessing now. Chris, I knew about the Ant Tart. Thanks for cleaning it up. I love you.

Yold

Two people in our family had birthdays this week. One of them is still young, turning only two.

And another one of them is yold. That would be yours truly, who turned....(gasp) 30. Parker told me on my birthday, "You're not young anymore, and you're not old yet. You're yold."

It made me realize that a lot can happen in a decade. When I turned 20, I was an unmarried college student who stayed up until 2 a.m. by choice, whose sole mode of transportation was tennis shoes, and who lived with a family of crazy girls (see picture) in apartments built out of cinder blocks and lead paint. Life was good.

(Sorry Jenni--don't know why you turned out so dark.)

Then in my twentieth year I met the man in this picture.

As you can see he got a hold of me. So I decided to marry him. Also he wouldn't go away.

Fast-forward ten years, 3 kids, 2 houses, and 1 insane Airedale Terrier later, and I am one yold woman. I have been up about one bazillion times at 2 a.m., never by choice, nursing babies, calming nightmares, and cleaning up vomit. I drive the standard-issue, Mormon-mom, Cheerio-encrusted minivan. I live in a 2450 square foot house, and one closet of it is mine, all-mine, where no child would dare enter, much less leave a Polly Pocket or Bakugan lying on the ground. Life is good.

Which is why I am not having a crisis about turning 30. Which is why when I went in for a check-up I mentioned to the doctor I had gained 10 pounds in a month. "Hmm...," she said. I needed much more than a "hmm" to alleviate my fear that my weight gain was caused by my aging metabolism. "Hormones can contribute to weight gain." Hallelujah! I'll take that. Medical excuse for getting fat. I will not meltdown over weight gain.

I am not having a crisis about the perma-circles under my eyes or the crow's feet at the edges. I may have bought age-defying makeup with a "magic eraser" that is supposed to erase fine lines. "What do you think?" I asked Chris after erasing my face this morning, "Do you think I still look like a youthful 29 year old?"

"Oh, yeah, you definitely look two days younger."

"Hey mom," Parker said, "now you're too old to be a contestant on American Idol."

FYI: I am not having a crisis about this.

How Deacon Eats Ice Cream

TV

Chris was driving home from a business trip Friday when I called him with big news.

"Husband," I said, "this may be the best day of your life."

"Why?"

"The TV died."

Chris received the news of a big ticket household item needing to be replaced much as I had anticipated--with complete elation. I may even say he was giddy as a schoolgirl.

Fast-forward a few hours later, and we found ourselves in RC Willey staring at TVs. I, being cheap, was all about buying the cheap knock-off brand made in China. Chris, however, had "standards." Finally, the decision was down to buying a Sony with 720 whatevers or a Sony with 1080 whatevers. I have no idea what those numbers stand for or mean, except that TV buying is not like golf, and the bigger number meant better TV. At one point I actually was in the weird situation of listening to Chris and the salesman having a conversation in which they were both speaking English, and yet I had no idea what they were saying. "Coaxial cable, blah, blah, blah, HDMI, video output..." But finally, Chris got back to Kodie English. "This TV is better. It costs $100 more. I want it."

"Fine."

A look of joy and disbelief spreads across Chris's face. "You mean after nine years of marriage I finally get to spend my own money?"

Happy St. Patrick's Day

This morning I was getting ready when I heard Parker say, "Deacon do you want to help me make the trail? Here you go. O.k., actually you are eating the trail, and that is not helpful."

I wondered what type of edible trail, Parker was talking about, and I discovered this.

If you can't tell, this is a leprechaun trap, with a cracker trail leading into it. These crackers are supposed to entice the leprechaun into walking up the block stairs into the shoe box where another cracker waits. Then I'm not sure what's supposed to happen next, but I think the leprechaun is supposed to pull the lid shut and sit around waiting for Parker to get home from school, so he can give him a pot of gold.

I can trace the leprechaun trapping back to kindergarten. A girl in Parker's class, Sarah Allison, told Parker that she had caught a leprechaun on St. Patrick's day, and he gave her a pot of gold. Though I tried to explain to Parker that perhaps Sarah was just imagining that event, he wouldn't believe me. So every year on St. Patrick's day he's running around the house looking under couches and such for a leprechaun. But this year he told me he "really, really wants to catch a leprechaun." Consequently, he brought his leprechaun catching technique up a notch. Consequently, his mother had to stop at the grocery store today for a bag of chocolate gold coins.

Three Important Life Lessons

McKay came up to me and said, "Mom, I know three things."

"O.k."

"One, daddy loves me. Two, mommy loves me. And, three..."

"Yes?"

"If two people sit on a potty together, one of them is going to fall in."

Overheard

Makenna (neighbor girl): "Why is your house so fun?"

Me: "Uhhh....?"

Makenna: "I think it's because you're Mormon. You get to have family home evening. And you go to church every Sunday."

Parker: "Church isn't that fun, Makenna. You sit there for three hours. It's just like school, only you learn about Jesus."

Makenna: "Learning about God is important."

Parker: "Yeah, but let me tell you about Stake Conference. That's the worst two hours of my life."

Makenna: "When I grow up, I'm going to marry a Mormon."

Parker: "You can marry me."

Makenna: "Why would I marry you? You're my best friend. I'm just going to find a cute Mormon boy to marry."

Parker: "Am I cute?"

Makenna: "Kind of."