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.

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

So a few years ago (like 34) my mom was born.
Her birthday is today and I just had to do a little post
and let her know how amazing I think she is.
I have always known this but have come to
really appreciate what a great mother she is
even more now that I am a mom too.
I find myself calling her more and more frequently
to apologize for some random thing that I'm sure I
did 25 years ago.
The conversation usually goes something like this...
"Hi Mom. I'm just calling to say sorry for all the times I
"copied" Melinda until she cried." or "Hey Mom, did I ever purposely
make the most annoying sounds you could possible imagine?"
"If I did, I'm sorry."
She usually says something like,
"I don't remember."
So it gives me great hope that I won't remember
the silly things that drive me kukoo.
Looking through some old pictures I said to my sister,
"I forget what Mom looked like when we were little.
I just always picture her looking like she does now."
But I do remember what she was like.
My mom was the mom who started the water fights with the neighbor kids.
She was always making bird houses with the scouts or pillows with the Young Women.
She was never without a project for the Primary.
She was busy being the one in charge of the School Carnival.
There was always an extra dinner being made for somebody in the neighborhood.
She could sew anything.
It seemed like she was canning something every day.
We went camping all the time.
She mowed the lawn and did most of the yard work.
Our yard was always beautiful.
I remember 5 kids in a tub with chicken pox at the same time.
She answered the phone the same way every time.
The hairs on the back of her neck would stand on end if she
didn't like one of your friends. She knew the good ones.
She was always involved politically and knew about current events.
We had the first 'flagpole' on the street and she was very proud of it.
She loved her Pepsi.
She got 7 kids and herself ready for church on her own for years.
She didn't love to cook but we always ate great, healthy meals.
She knew exactly what to say when I told her that the boy I liked....
liked my best friend. (this happened often....Natalie).
She had a beautiful signature that I could never forge correctly.
She always sang in the choir and I could pick her voice out of everyone.
I remember her plunking out notes on the piano until she knew the song.
She hated sleepovers.
She had the prettiest fingernails.
She made me look like this.

She was fair and didn't like to get mad.
But if she was locked in her room.....you didn't knock.
(I totally get that now)
She wrote thank you notes.
She loved and took care of animals.
She sometimes let us stay home from school even though
I'm pretty sure she knew we were faking it.
Sometimes she cried.
She was on a bowling league and taught me how to throw a strike.
She was really good at softball and either played or was the umpire.
She loved taking long drives to nowhere in particular.
She babysat other kids to help provide financially.
(Just the thought of that makes me very tired.)
She was always a room mother and made great treats.
We always had amazing Christmases.
She hated laundry but we always had nice, clean clothes to wear.
Summertime was like magic at our house.
She knew all the employees names at Ream's and they loved her.
She had a great laugh and was a fabulous story teller.
She gave us jobs even though I'm sure it would have been
easier just to do it herself.
I learned to look until I found whatever it was she sent me to get
cause' if she had to eventually go and get it......*shiver*....
She didn't (still doesn't) like going out to lunch.
She always got the bag of popsicles with the root beer flavor cause I loved em'.
She came to every recital, concert, play and performance.
I pretty much grew up at a ball-park.
She shared my dad with the whole neighborhood.
She had (and still does) a tremendous love of the gospel of Jesus Christ.
She loved her family.
These are only a few of the memories I have of her.
I really could go on for days and talk about all the wonderful things
that make my mother who she is.
She is a fantastic 'Nana' and I'm so glad my kids have her.
She is still all of these things and even more.
Hopefully, the way people look at me is a reflection on her.
Thank you mom for not only giving me life
but for teaching me how to live it.
I know I am a better person because of your example.
Happy Birthday.
Love you.

Inside all of us is a Wild Thing.

When I was a kid, I absolutely loved the book
"Where The Wild Things Are".
I loved Max and his costume.
And he was a real stinker of a kid
and I was not.
I was probably living vicariously
through his disobedient antics.
So when he got sent to his room
and his imagination turned that room into
a forest and an ocean and had creatures,
I was convinced that my imagination was
either broken or missing that vital
"everything comes to life" part.

I still love reading this book to my kids.
It's not a really bright, happy go lucky book
and I think that's why I like it.
It has depth and it's a little artsy.
When I heard they were making it into a movie
I was kind of nervous and slightly protective of it.
I did not want a cheesy, slick, cutesy version of the book.
When I found the trailer for the movie
I wasn't expecting much. Most kid's movies
tend to feel like a weekly Wal-mart mailer.
It comes every week,
it's shiny and flashy
you look at it quick,
and then throw it away
and wait for the next one.

This feels like the double issue of Pottery Barn.
You know the one. It comes once a year.
The one where you wait for the kids to go to sleep,
sit in your favorite chair,
drink your favorite beverage,
slowly browse through,
look through it again,
and then keep it on the coffee table for months.

And if the music is any indication
of what the movie is like,
it's gonna be good.

I think my imagination just got fixed.