Hello?…Hello?…Is this thing on?

Oh boy. I almost forgot how to even get in here to this blog. It's irritating how time passes and my kids continue to grow and do amazing things and be funny and cute and I want to capture and keep record of all of it, but really I'm simply managing to keep up with all of it.

How dare they? 

Here we are almost 3 years later…*sigh*…Before I get all regretty and shoulda woulda…I'm just going to pick my good intentions up off the floor and dust off my keyboard and start again. 

That's really what it's about anyway I guess. 

Just keep swimming…just keep swimming. It works for Dory.

I've let Facebook and Instagram take over but I feel like this is a little more permanent. 

So, we will try again here on the old Dibble Scribbles.

We'll tell funny stories, share happy days and also the total bummer days. 

We'll be serious and spiritual and silly and simple.

Hopefully the kids won't be too embarrassed to read this in 20 years.

Hopefully, they'll be glad that mom tried to keep up. 

Just keep swimming…just keep swimming…

Zzzzzzzzz.....

The kids love to fall asleep in our bed while watching movies.

It doesn't look comfortable to me at all. Too many monkeys sleeping in the bed.

I think their secret plan is to get Daddy to carry them to their beds.

Who didn't love that when they were a kid?

I remember falling asleep in the car and having my dad carry me in to my bed.

Until we got too big I guess, because I remember a few times waking up the next morning

in the car with a sibling's foot in my face and a sore neck.

Before I had kids I slept like a log. I would hit the pillow and be out in about 4 minutes. I was a deep sleeper...like wake up in the morning in the same spot with drool on the pillow deep sleeper.

Now, I sleep like a baby.

I always roll my eyes when people say this like it's a good thing. Really? you think it's fun to wake up every two or three hours during the night? Why do you think babies take 4 naps during the day? I can't take four naps during the day.

I hate interrupted sleep.

With the girls we had a queen bed and so we could feel them getting into bed with us during the night. I was one of those mean moms that told them to get a blanket and pillow and camp out on the floor. Interrupted sleep.

Now that we have the King bed the boys have perfected their Ninja skills and can sneak in without us even noticing. Usually around 3:30 a.m. I start having dreams about drowning and not being able to breath or kick my legs to get to the surface. That's when I wake up to the 3 year old laying across my chest with his hand over my mouth and the 6 year old laying across both legs. I swear there is some gravitational pull between mother's and children because it's always me they insist on lying right next to...never Greg.

Sometimes I get up and take them back into their beds but mostly I just push them off and turn over. Interrupted sleep.

Now I'm trying to drag my tired carcass out of bed even earlier to exercise with Greg in the morning. So yeah, that's workin' out well. Basically, I turn into 'Momzilla' by about 3:00.

I used to make fun of my dad because he could fall asleep anywhere, anytime. We thought it was the weirdest thing. I mean, how can you fall asleep sitting up?.....uhm...I woke up to a honk the other day. Yeah, I fell asleep waiting at the red light. Didn't even remember closing my eyes. I fell asleep in church today, (sorry Bishop) sitting up, holding Tyson in my lap.

I am fully aware and KNOW that I will miss this time with little ones sneaking into my bed to be near to me. I know waking up to a foot in my face is much easier than waiting up for a teenage daughter to come home from a date. I promise, I fully appreciate the fact that they are growing and changing before my eyes and every day is precious with them.

I would just love a nap! A really good, long, uninterrupted nap...or four. Hey! If I sleep like a baby I should be able to nap like one.

Happy Daylight Savings...whatever. Makes as much sense to me as Justin Beiber's baggy pants.

Put me in Coach!

When you think of great coaches, names like Mike Krzyzewski, Tony La Russa or Vince Lombardi usually come to mind. They are famous and have had successful and long careers as coaches. What was it that made them so great and successful?

I think it's a combination of things.

Coach K focuses on making individual players become better teamates.

Tony La Russa had been a player and leads by example. He had been where his players are.

Vince Lombardi was a great motivator and leader. Even if a player thought it impossible, Coach Lombardi pushed him and worked him until he believed.

They took the best of a player and made him even better.

My brother Rob is a coach.

He coaches his boys' teams and loves it. He's a great football coach.

But he's an even better 'life coach'.

He is the oldest of 7 children. He's been the Neal Armstrong for all of us that came after.

He has always just naturally led. He was the first for everything.

He has been 'watched' for 40 years. He's handled that pressure well.

From the time I was teeny tiny, I have loved Rob. I have known that he was there for me. I have never doubted that he was watching out for me.

Like Coach K, he has always tried to make people better.

When I was a very awkward 7th grader trying to figure out where I fit in, Rob was a very popular Junior in High School. He had the most beautiful girl friends that would come to our house. I'm sure they felt stalked as I lurked in the corner admiring their big hair and big shoulder pads. A couple of these lovely girls were Angie Tueller and Gina Gyllenskog. (Don't their names just make them sound pretty?) anyway, these girls had younger sisters who were in my grade and I'm sure had no idea who I was. I found out much later that my sweet brother had encouraged (begged) Natalie and Kim to be nice to me and try and include me in their cool group. I'm sure the last thing they wanted was a 'project' worthy of a John Hughes plot line but nevertheless, they included me in their tightknit group and I am still friends with those girls to this day. Those girls also helped keep me on the straight and narrow and made my teenage years not only bearable but downright enjoyable.

I love the fact that baseball is the only sport where the 'coach' dresses up like the players.

(I mean, can you even imagine Jerry Sloan in short shorts and high tops?)

But in baseball it somehow works. The manager looks like one of the team. He's one of them.

Tony La Russa was a player before he was a manager.

He knew what it was like to strike out, miss an easy play, or score a homerun.

His players knew he wasn't perfect. They also knew that he didn't quit.

He knew how to overcome mistakes.

I have sat through hundreds of talks and classes and lectures on repentance and forgiveness.

They have been true and good.

But I will never forget when I truly learned what it meant to be sorry for something.

To feel it deep in your soul.

We were having Family Home Evening and Rob was sitting under the living room window. He had hair, (it was even permed). He had on his pink izod shirt that was my favorite. We were talking (I can't even remember the topic) when Rob started to cry. I don't mean the pretty Demi Moore one tear down the cheek cry, I mean the Ugly, lip quiverying cry. He then told us about skipping out on church to go to Troy Haslam's house to jump on his tramp. I know that probably sounds silly but he was genuinely sorry that he had done that. He hadn't been caught, nobody probably would have even found out...he was just sorry.

That has been the most effective lesson on repentance I have ever had. Whenever I feel the need to repent (daily) I think, "Am I 'jumping on Troy Haslam's tramp' sorry?"

I know that Rob will always have on the same uniform as me.

That's comforting.

Vince Lombardi is the coach that people who don't know coaches still know.

He's famous for his inspiring words and the way he motivated his players.

Rob has always been motivated. He missed many camping trips to be tortured during 3-a-Days. He worked to be able to help pay for his mission. He is very dedicated and works like crazy to support his family. He is very loyal and protective of his family. He knows what it takes to be successful. And he's survived at least 6 life-threatening incidents.

He is here for a purpose.

And my kids love when he talks like a duck.

While it may sound like I think Rob is perfect..I know he is not..

But Coach Lombardi said it best:

"Perfection is not attainable. But if we chase perfection, we can catch excellence.

"After all the cheer have died down and the stadium is empty, after the headlines have been written and after you are back in the quiet of your room and the championship ring has been placed on the dresser and after all the pomp and fanfare have faded, the enduring hting that is left is the dedication to doing with our lives the very best we can to make the world a better place in which to live."

Happy Birthday to my favorite coach.

Thanks for making the world and the people in it a little bit better.

Love you!

Happy Birthday Dad.

Today my dad turns 67 years old.

That's 24, 455 days. Those days have been spent in many different ways.

Ya know when people ask you if you could go back in time, "when" would you go? I always thought it would be so much fun to pull a Marty McFly and see my parents as kids and teenagers. I would especially love to watch the moment they met. I would love to be able to actually see those days that shaped him into the man he is today. I'm sure I would giggle on the day that he got on the school bus and then get off at the next stop to play hooky with his friend all day. Or the day that he swore and his Uncle Morris got after him. So little Johnny made up his own 'swear word'. I 'll try and do it justice here...*ahem*...

"Doggone, rickelfritzen, son of a gun and crackernottin, jitten belly, no good for nothin', dog breath nipper"......whew!

I don't recall ever hearing my dad use bad language. An occasional bible swear here and there but nothing offensive. I think you'll agree that this catchy little phrase would suffice in getting your point across.

I'm sure most of his childhood and teenage days were spent laughing and playing and making mistakes and learning from them. I'm sure he watched those around him... subconsciously allowing their influence to mold and shape him. I know my father was surrounded by good, hard working people. People who knew what was important. People who stood for things that mattered. Imperfect, but decent, loving people.

Although I did not 'see' him on those days of his youth, I am the lucky recipient of the lessons he learned. The days that I have seen of my father have been filled with knowledge to last a lifetime.

The majority of our days are like pearls strung together on a lovely necklace. But occasionally, there are jewels thrown in there that break up the monotony and make it stunning.

My dad's necklace is overflowing with jewels.

Many of those jewels stick out to me and remind me of the wonderful man my father is.

Like the days he spent fixing a neighbor's faucet, building trophy stands for the scouts, or taking me to visit some widows with him. The days (years) he would work 2 jobs to provide for our family. The day at Disneyland where he lugged around that Buick sized Video Camera so we would have memories recorded. The days he would take us to "help" him install a flagpole. The days he would spend planning big family camping trips. The days he has spent encouraging the youth of the world. He really has been blessed with a gift of understanding and love for troubled souls. They are drawn to his compassion. Or the night of my first date, when he came to my room with a white rose and told me how much he loved me and that I should keep myself like that rose. The day he sent me off on my mission. Or the day of my wedding when he sweetly put me in the care of another man. The day when I miscarried and he just held me and cried with me. The day of each of my children's birth. Today when I called to wish him Happy Birthday and he sounded like a little kid.

Days that he has surely forgotten but that are burned into my memory. Days where he not only told me but showed me. I know he is not perfect....but he's pretty close to it.

It would be impossible to count the number of people who have been blessed by, influenced by, or loved by my father. I was aware from an early age that I am lucky to have a dad like mine. I have known that not everyone does. I don't know why I got to come to his home, to be his daughter... I only know that I am so very happy to be.

He was the first man that I loved. The man who made me very picky about who I dated. The man who continues to teach me with his generosity, guide me with his example and show me that indeed, it is not about counting the days, but making the days count.

Here's to several thousand more days.

Love you Poppy John John!

Love, Sister Bug

Soooo....yeah.

So ya know when you get so behind on something and ya keep thinking, "I'm gonna get caught up, I am". And then more and more time passes and the catch up list starts to get longer and longer and no matter how hard you try or how great your intentions are..it just doesn't seem to make a difference. And then you are so far behind that you just have to give up on the catch up and start fresh from where you're at. Anyone? Anyone?

Well, that's where I'm at. I've had so many thoughts and such great things to post about from our summer and fall and it all just got away from me. So we're just starting fresh and there may be some random 'catch up' posts thrown in there. So if you get a post about Lake Powell or

Jack-o-lanterns thrown in there, just skip it. or whatever.

Lookin' Good!!

We're all still here.

It's just been a crazy busy summer.

We've been busy with some fun projects.

I will post about them soon.

This is what he has looked like most of the summer.

He's an independent soul, this one is.

Hope you're all having fun too.

Perceptions

So I've noticed a lot of blogs that take Sunday pictures before church.
I thought that would be a cute idea to try and record the kids in their finery and have concrete
proof that they didn't look like orphans all of the time. (just most of the time).

Pretty cute huh? (minus the suckers hangin' out)

Yeah. Well, here's the 'perception' part.

What looks like a nice, almost perfect picture of 5 happy, willing children is actually just the best of a bunch of tear inducing, tantrum throwing, frustrating attempts.

People sometimes see only what they want to see.

They only view one of the many pictures without thinking that there may be a whole series of shots that are not so lovely.

Sometimes we're just not ready...

sometimes we just want to run away.

Sometimes we just have no control over the situation.

Sometimes we just get downright grumpy and mean.

Sometimes we simply put on our best pretend smile just to please everyone else.

Once in a while we get that 'great shot'. The shot that we want to show people.

The shot that everyone looks at and says,

"Your life is perfect, your kids are perfect, I wish I could be like that".

I do it all the time.

I need to remember that the perfect shot that I'm looking at

may just be the best out of a bunch of failed attempts.

I think it's perfectly acceptable for us to show each other our 'weak' shots or our 'vulnerable' poses. I think we'd all feel better about things if we knew that occasionally our eyes were closed or we're out of focus.

So on those days when I feel not ready, when I feel like running away, when things are out of control, when I get grumpy and I'm not myself...

I hope I can remember that if I just keep trying...we'll get a good shot.

After all, I have a really loving and patient photographer

who can see the whole picture.

Here's to sharing and accepting the whole photo shoot.

I could totally rock a horse and buggy...

How much does hay cost?

I don't think any of the kids are allergic to horses.

Hmm. I'm gonna look into it.

My mom could beat up your mom!

So a few days ago I witnessed some fierce mama love and protection.

Every Spring we spot some ducks roaming our neighborhood.

They waddle up and down the street like some sort of springtime street gang.

This year it's a mama duck and her twelve (yeah, 12) ducklings.

A few yards down from our house is a storm drain.

You can probably guess what happened next.

I came out to see a very anxious mama duck squaking her little feathers off.

She was standing over the storm drain with one little duckling right by her side.

As we looked down into the drain, we counted the other eleven very dazed babies.

Mama duck was beside herself. Although she didn't know how to help her little ones,

she never left them.

and she never stopped quacking to those ducklings.

Even as more people gathered around, she stayed unusually close to the drain.

My strong neighbors, Rich, Shane and Paul were able to use a crobar and a metal hook to get the storm drain raised and open.

Rich jumped down into the drain and gathered the ducklings up in a net.

All eleven babies were safely returned to a mama ready to get her little brood outa there.

Now I know she's a duck but I couldn't help thinking that she must have been relieved. Ducks have feelings right? I mean, she didn't just say, "hey, I've still got one more, I'll just leave these other one's here in this hole in the ground." She stuck around until they were all safe.

And she was also willing to accept help from others.

She waddled off with all of her twelve waddling behind her.

They were out of danger.
Until she rounded the corner and saw HIM staring at her.

No sooner had she managed to get the littles out of danger than an

even bigger threat shows up.
She had barely had time to recover before she was back in defense mode.

But again, she didn't run away. Instead, she turned to that cat and started giving it the what for. She wasn't about to let those ducklings become a feline feast.

She quacked and quacked until the cat finally turned tail and skedaddled.

Made me realize how important it is to be vigilant as a mother.

It's a 24/7 job that we never take a break from.

We would never leave our children defenseless or alone.

There will always be something lurking around the corner and

our kids are gonna get in some sticky situations.

But they must know that we won't leave them.

They must know that we will ask for help in order to care for them.

They must know that we will fight to protect them.

Not just sometimes, not just in some situations..always.

My children must know that they can call to me and that I will come to them.

They must know that they are the reason I breath.

And I've got a pretty fierce quack so....

Made in...??????

So the other day I'm listening to Lindsay and Makenna have a conversation.

It went like this:

Lindsay: "You are so far behind. You're never gonna catch up."

Makenna: "I know, I know. But it's not my fault. I can't help it, its not a fair game."

I got slightly concerned thinking that I may have to do some intervening on Kenna's behalf. 'What is she so far behind on? and why is Lindsay taunting her about it?'

Me: "What's the contest here?"

They started pointing to things and turning things upside down looking for tags.

Lindsay: "I get a point for everything that's made in China and she gets a point for everything that's made in America."

Uh....okay.

Me: "You guys need to think of a less depressing and fear-inducing contest."

This Old House

Remember when I talked about this house?

Well guess what?

It was left neglected too long and

someone decided it was too far gone and opted to destroy it....

Guess I had better do some laundry before

Greg decides to do something drastic.

Please tell me I'm not the only one who has trouble keeping up with the laundry......please...someone.

I have loved the cello for a long time.

I think it's such a beautiful sounding instrument.

My favorite Beatles song is Eleanor Rigby simply

because of that cello solo.

And then there's Coldplay's Viva la Vida

It just has such a rich, deep tone that I feel deep down in my soul.

You can't help but feel it when you hear things like this.

And I love the shape of it. Maybe because that's the shape I see when I look in the mirror.

Whatever the reason, I love the cello.

I was driving in the car the other day listening to one of my favorites

Olivia pipes up from the back seat and says,

"I just love this music. It makes me feel happy."

I smiled and asked her if she knew what instrument was being played.

I could see her little memory working to connect the word to the picture in her mind.

She brightened up and blurted out,

"It's the archidello".

eh, close enough.

So, long post short...

I love the cello.

Olivia makes me laugh.

love this pic.

"Oh Fudge"

So Olivia pulled a "Ralphie" the other day.

She was walking home with the girls and said it..the big one...the one that makes me cringe.
Of course, she didn't know what it meant or that it was even bad. Once she found out that it was the worst bad swear you could say...she was inconsolable..she cried for almost an hour.
I felt bad. But not as bad as as I would have if she had thought it was funny.
It's good to know that you're kids feel remorse when they have done something wrong..even if they didn't know it was wrong.
She's been trying very hard lately to be more agreeable. She is aware immediately after when she has done or said something that she shouldn't.
My hair may stay the same color longer than I thought it would.

Everyone does their year in review in March...right? Better late than never.

What was I thinking?1?

Shopping karma

So it never fails that I pick the wrong line at the store.

Doesn't matter if the lady in front of me has 2 items or 102 items,

I always end up waiting.

It's like some evil witch put a curse on me when I stole a

candy bar at the checkout when I was 7.

(to this day I can't eat a Snicker's without a twinge of guilt)

I will always pick the wrong line to wait in.

This summer as I watched my cute girls pretend to shop at the

children's museum I realized that my horrible curse has been

passed on to my innocent children.

Such a tragedy.

Flip Flops...I miss you.

This is what it looks like every day after school.

I hate winter....so much.

Happy Birthday Dad!

My cute sister Melinda made this video for my dad's birthday and I just had to share it.
He is such an amazing person and I feel so stinkin' lucky to call him Dad.
He has to be one of the most giving, selfless people ever. He has truly been an example to me of 'Love One Another' and 'Do unto others'.
He is special.
And those blue eyes....love it.

http://vimeo.com/18450046

Love you Dad.

Drama queen

You'll never guess which one of my daughters thought this was funny.

She laughed and laughed.

Should I be concerned?

Tis' the Season..