My Color Codes

I've always been a little taken with the Personality Color Codes. I took the test in college, and I find my results to be pretty accurate. Of course, I've changed a bit since then-last time I was pre-marriage, kids, and loads of learning experiences. But I think at the core I remain somewhat the same. My results:

50% Red, and 50% Yellow. No Blue, (maybe there was a sliver in there?) and absolutely no White. I think motherhood and wifehood have forced a little more blue in me, but not much. In discussing these results with a close friend, she revealed that she is 50% Red, and 50% Blue. "Total opposites", she said. "The color combination of most serial killers." she adds jokingly. I guess I can see the opposite thing in blues and reds, but I'm finding that my own color combination doesn't really work hand in hand either. For example:

Red Brooke: I am going to sand this dresser down until it is perfect, and I will stain it to look amazing!

Yellow Brooke: (90% done) Ehh, that's good enough. No one will see that part anyway!

Red Brooke: Kallie, I need to see your homework and you can not leave the table nor will I sign it off until it looks like you're very best handwriting.

Yellow Brooke: (2 minutes later) Ooh, Kallie, come feel the baby! She's kicking!

Red Brooke: Today is a day of health. My family and I will eat only what is healthy for our bodies.

Yellow Brooke: (At the local gas station drive-thru, 1 hour later) Ya, can I get a 32 oz. Diet Coke and a couple of suckers for the kiddos in the back?

Red Brooke: This Activity Day Meeting/Mercy River Rehearsal/Mercy River Schedule Meeting will now come to order. I will be conducting.

Yellow Brooke: (30 seconds later) Oh my gosh, you guys, Kallie said the funniest thing the other day!

The Red Brooke is a go-getter. I am full of ideas, to-do lists, and when faced with a leadership opportunity, I'm all over that. And I'm bossy. Oh, am I bossy. I take charge in most situations, and I think I'm right quite a bit. I fall short on the compassion side and I have a small tolerance for lazy people.

The Yellow Brooke is lazy. And up for a good time-always. I like to laugh which can sometimes lead to distraction and disruptiveness. I forget things, but then don't care that I forget. (Or I forget that I forget!) And the Yellow Brooke doesn't WANT to be in charge. And heaven knows I have a hard time shutting up.

When Jarum and I are choosing a restaurant for date night, the Red Brooke has an opinion and demands her voice to be heard. The Yellow Brooke doesn't care where we go. Sometimes Red wins, but when the Yellow side wins, the Red side gets frustrated. Poor Jarum. The guy can't win.

When Red Brooke gets an idea for a project, she lays out a plan, sets up time, and makes a list of items she'll need to accomplish this project. Yellow Brooke forgets said list when she goes to the store, works until project is 90% done, then gets bored and finds something else to play with.

Do you see my dilemma? My two personalities don't get along! I'm not sure what to do. I welcome all suggestions.

But the Yellow Brooke may not getting around to following them...

Dora: And Why I Despise Her

Isn't that a cheery title? This blog is sadly forsaken, and for no good reason, other than sheer laziness. As I have explained to others, this is the blog that is just for ME and my love affair with writing. So naturally it's my favorite one to write for. I even think in blog posts for this blog. But when it comes down to it, the hour it takes to write a simple post becomes too time consuming and I end up...giving up. But I have a quiet moment to myself right now-and I'm turning 30 in the next couple days, (gasp!) so it's high time I set some new goals for my next 30 years and put more effort into this blog. Aaaaannnnd back to my title.

Last week a friend of mine and I were discussing our pregnancies-my 3rd and her 1st. During said conversation she said, "I know one thing-my kids will NOT be allowed to watch Dora. I can't stand her." My response was, "Good luck with that!" but I must admit I sympathize with her. Let me explain.

First of all, let's get all the physical complaints out of the way. I realize the shallowness of these statements, but say them I will. Her head is entirely too large. Her cousin Diego's head is a normal shape, I don't understand why Dora got stuck with the massive noggin. And for crying out loud, who gives a girl a bowl cut? Plus her shirt is too short. I don't care where you get your clothes-if I see something cute at Walmart I'm not ashamed to buy it, but I do make an effort to BUY THE CORRECT SIZE. Someone needs to break the news to the kid-she's not a 4T anymore. I'm just saying. Moving on.

She's always shouting at me and my children. I'm not sure why she does this-maybe her parents have never taught her the correct way to speak to others. Maybe she thinks we're all suffering from poor hearing, or since she's bi-lingual, maybe we're below her on the education scale. Whatever the reason, I don't like it and it needs to stop.

And finally-I'm not too crazy about her friends. First there's Benny. He obviously has a smoking problem at his young age, the poor kid sounds like a 68 year old woman from Vegas. And he dumpster dives. That's gross. And THEN! There's Boots. The monkey version of Eddie Haskell from Leave it To Beaver. Or Kimmy Gibler from Full House. When Dora's twin siblings were born, he bragged about being a "Big Monkey Brother". Dude, you have your own family. And I'm assuming they're a good family, because they came and supported you during your ridiculous pirate play and they even cheered at the end. But even that doesn't top my least favorite character-the grumpy old troll. Ugh. Don't even get me started. If only his song wouldn't get stuck in my head...

So there you have it. The sad thing about all of this is, I've seen most of her episodes and all of her "movies".

Who has two thumbs and has been conned by Dora the Explorer? This gal. xo

Old Habits Die Hard

Here's a pet peeve I have-I'm always a little disturbed when I'm bothered by something that is completely illogical. Like I know I shouldn't be bothered by it. In my head it makes perfect sense why I should shrug it off, or refuse to let it get under my skin, but for some reason I'm still bugged. I have some examples-

Part of Mercy River's preparation process for Time Out involves shopping for outfits. Rough, right? It's actually quite painful. Trying to find clothing that's cohesive to each other, but still reflects our personal style is quite obnoxious. So imagine my joy when my outfit for our "pink" ensemble came together. I loved it-it looked like "me", and matched the other girls beautifully. Truth be told, I was rather proud of it. The first time I wore it I was bombarded with compliments. "I love your outfit!" "Your outfit is so cute!" "Your flower is darling!" "Those shoes are fantastic!" And then-THE comment.

"Are you expecting?"

Nope. I wasn't at the time. And that's all I thought of the rest of the event. I'm not angry at the woman that said it-in fact, I feel bad for her. I'm sure she beats herself up about it all the time, the look on her face was cringe worthy. But her comment stuck with me. I'm no longer too crazy about the outfit. Forget all the positive feedback, to one woman I looked pregnant in that dress, so that's the only thing I think when I put it on.

Stupid, right? I know that.

My next example is also Mercy River related. (Side note-MR is hands down the most humbling experience. Never before have I been so out there for the world to judge. And some people are pretty harsh judges.) We had a concert this last weekend in the Brigham Young Historical Park. It was part of the Temple Square Concert Series, so it's well advertised, and well attended. We were trying out a new concert set, and it felt like it was going well. Instead of our nerves getting the better of us we were concentrating on giving the audience an "experience". I noticed several people crying during a solo song of mine, and I thought, "OK, they felt the meaning of that song!" I was thrilled to be a part of this moment with them. Then, during a particularly fun song, I noticed a couple laughing in the corner, and watched as they STARTED TO MAKE FUN OF ME and how I moved my hand! I couldn't look at them the rest of the time. After the concert we sold more CDs than we have at any past concert, had dozens of people ask for pictures and autographs, had several hugs from small aspiring singers...but that's the not part I'll remember. I'll remember that couple. That couple ruined that experience for me.

Stupid, right? I know that.

Why do I do this? I'm a fairly positive person-opinionated, yes. Passionate, yes. But I try to find the good (or at least comical) side of things. And for the most part I think I'm rather logical. But no matter how much my head says, "You know better than that", or my heart says, "Be Positive!", my stomach still has that pit. I wish there was a way to ignore my stomach. Maybe I have more growing up to do than I thought. I'm actually excited to be 50. How nice to be at a time in life when I'm so comfortable in my own skin, the opinions of others simply bounce off. I guess I don't have to wait to be 50, maybe 30 will be my magic age. If so, I have a lot of work to do between now and my next birthday.

xo

Self-Proclaimed Feminist

In the last couple weeks I've experienced two examples of "Feminism." But first, I must tell you...I am a feminist.

I can explain! This all starts with one of my favorite stories in the Old Testament; The story of Adam and Eve. Here's how I imagine it went down. (And may I not be struck down for putting these thoughts on paper, er, screen.)

Adam and Eve were taught in that Garden. I like to think that, when Eve was faced with the choice to partake of that darned fruit, she outweighed all her options. Knowing what her actual role was, and what was needed to fulfill that role, she made a calculated decision. Satan, thinking he got the better of her, was thrilled at first, but then realized later that he had been tricked. By a woman. She knew what she was doing-he just didn't know that. Satan took his immature revenge on her offspring. And we see the effects of it to this day. Women are definitely viewed as the weaker, or lesser sex. In all honesty, this aftermath doesn't bother me so much. I find more pride in the knowledge that our first Earthly mother got the best of him.

So here were the two examples I alluded to earlier.

1)I heard a news story on the radio about a bunch of "feminists" marching through the streets of Washington-topless. Their reason? Men can walk around without shirts! Why can't women! THEN! (This was the funny part to me), they were angry because a group of men stood around them during the whole ordeal and snapped pictures. Apparently that was crossing some line. (It's not rocket science ladies, take a stab at why you think they were there! Morons.)

2) I just finished reading the book, The Red Tent. (Side note-I'm not sure if I'm recommending the book right now-there are parts that are, as my sister so lovingly put it, icky. So consider yourself warned.) It's about Dinah, the only daughter of Jacob from the Old Testament. Dinah and her four "moms" were strong women. They reveled in being female. The day Aunt Flo comes to visit for the first time is practically a cause for celebration. The ability to carry children is considered a great privilege. Midwives were viewed as God-like. They were able to steer their husband in any direction-all while convincing that husband it was all part of HIS brilliant plan. Men were great and all; I mean, they definitely served a purpose, but these women were so wrapped up in the blessings given solely to them.

So here's my question-

Since when did feminism mean being treated like a man? Why can't women celebrate just being who they are? Isn't that TRUE feminism? I'm asking this because there are things I complain about-that horrid week each month in which I'm crampy and crabby, the pregnancy pains and aftermath to my body, the roles that fall on my lap as the "Housewife and mom". But I'm thinking those are the things we should celebrate. Look at what our bodies can do! Look at how our feelings are so in tune to others! Look at this natural nurturing we have! Look at our ability to multi-task! Look how we can turn our husbands in any direction, while convincing him it was all his idea! And although it's at times a curse, look at our constant need to be better! Are we ever just content with where we are? I would argue that we are not.

I'm not saying that some men don't posses a couple of these same qualities. But I'll be honest, almost every woman I know has almost ALL of these qualities. Maybe we should throw ourselves big parties during that time of the month. (I'm pretty sure a pedicure would solve my grumpies.) And when we've checked off 2 or 3 things off our to-do list, we should have a Dove Dark Chocolate. And next time I'm pregnant, I should find a way to pamper myself at least once a week. (However, I'm pretty sure I'll forget this one.) Because gosh dern it, being a woman is POWER! Ya feel it??

So fellow women-enjoy being a girl. Celebrate all the things we do and CAN do. And for heaven's sakes, keep your shirt on. :)

Confessions of a Stay At Home Mom

"What did you do today?"

Such an intriguing question. Sometimes it stops me in my tracks, as I think about how much of my day I should share. For example, if I were to describe today;

I did some "housewife" duties-I cleaned out my fridge, and organized my bathroom closet. I made a grocery stop to the ever-popular Walmart. (I'm sure the amount of money I spend there employs at least two people.) And as of this evening, my laundry is now caught up. (And yes, I'm fully aware this status will change by tomorrow morning.)

I did some "mom" duties-changed diapers, cooked a few meals, colored, painted some wicked water-color rainbows, pushed around some cars with Chase...I did some "Mercy River" duties-caught up on our emails, posted a status on our FB account, and I had a conference call with Whit and Soni.

But do I tell him all the in-between stuff? Like, while I was on my way home from the store, the kids fell asleep in the car. So I took the opportunity to practice my interview skills, and I proceeded to have a very intelligent conversation with myself. Or during that small moment when both kids were down for quiet time, I snuck some Easter candy. Then, while I was cleaning the fridge, I had the Food Network on in the background. And after I ate the afore mentioned candy, I saw Giada cooking some yummy Italian, and then I saw her bitsy little body so I stopped cleaning and did 50 crunches. Or when I hit my 4:00 crash moment, I sat on the couch and stared at the ceiling for a good 6 minutes-trying to empty my mind and tune out my children, who were running around said couch.

Do I tell him that at some point today, I DID have makeup on? That I was dressed this morning, but then my shoulder was covered in Peanut Butter, so...and I started doing my hair, but then Chase got into my toothpaste, and I got sidetracked, so hence the current ponytail?

And, do I tell him that getting the mail always makes me a little excited?

I guess I could tell him, but I'm not sure if he would get it. I'm not sure you really understand the life of a stay at home mom until you experience it.

I can tell him about Kallie's many questions, and her too-cute phrases. I can tell him how much Chase loves his golf club, and try to demonstrate his latest cheesy grin. I can tell him how Kallie bit her jelly bean in half, just so Chase could have the other piece. I could tell him how fun it was to snug with Kallie while we watched Enchanted. I can describe Kallie and Chase's game of Kallie shutting the door, Chase knocking on it, Kallie opening it, and Chase saying "Hi!" in his sweet voice.

I can tell him all these things, but again, experiencing it is another ball game. I'm so grateful I get to experience it-all of it. The self-interviews, the couch crashes, the Peanut Butter shirts and ponytails, the mail, singing Enchanted at the top of my lungs with Kallie, getting whacked in the shins by Chase's golf club...I'll be honest, it lacks a bit of glitz and glamour, but I wouldn't trade it for the world.

xo

For the Good of the People

Do I dare state my political opinions on a public blog?

I guess it's my blog, right? I'm testing it on this one before I put it out on Mercy River's.

If you think it's too, um, political, let me know, k? Thanks for being my test group!

In complete respect of other people's political stand, I have to say this past weekend was very hard for me. Monday was a rough day. The things that are happening in our country scare me. For the first time I felt hopeless-like there's nothing I can do. My children will grow up in...well, anyway, I was scared. All day I had a pit in my stomach. Then Tuesday night I came across something that gave me hope.

I started reading the Old Testament a couple weeks ago. Tuesday I read about Abraham and Sarah receiving the news that Sarah will have a baby. (P.S. I love that Sarah laughed, out of sheer joy. Can't you just picture her? I love Old Testament women.) But later in that chapter Abraham is talking to the Lord about Sodom and Gomorrah. The Lord tells Abraham that Sodom and Gomorrah will be destroyed. Abraham essentially asks him, but what if there are 50 good people in that city? Will you destroy it? The Lord tells him, He would save the city, for the sake of those 50 people. Then Abraham asks, but what if it's 45? 40? 30? Will you destroy it? The Lord tells him he would save the city for the sake of those 30 people. Finally Abraham asks, but what if there's only 10 people? Would you destroy the city? The Lord said, "I will not destroy it for ten's sake." Amazing. Here is a city chock full of wickedness, but He would save the city simply for the sake of the 10 righteous people. Is there any question He is mindful of each individual?

I may not agree with the things that are happening to my country. BUT-I KNOW there are GOOD people here. And as I read that, I realized that once again, it's in the Lord's hands. And He knows the people who are trying to follow Him. My job is to make sure my family and I are ready-prepared for the worst; that we work hard to be GOOD people. So when and if something happens, we have nothing to fear. And when there's an absence of fear, hope is allowed to exist.

So I'd like to use these changes in our nation as a motivation tool, to get my behind in gear. And the end result will hopefully be, HOPE.

2 Birds, 1 Stone

I'm lazy, you say? I haven't updated this blog in...forever? The latter point is true, but I'm here to defend myself on the former accusation. Some of you know this, but I don't have 2 blogs. I have 3. And unfortunately this one tends to fall in last place. Most of my writing energies go into the Mercy River Blog. To be honest, there's a bigger following there, and therefore I feel more pressure to keep it updated. So I'm going to do one of two things-copy and paste posts from one to the other, or just direct your reading eyes (and your precious spare time) to our Mercy River Musings. I like to think of myself as efficient. (Which may or may not include some laziness. I'm not admitting to anything!) That being said, I DO love my Mamma Drama readers, so I'll do the best I can to keep y'all around, mmmmk?

XOXO

Perception

When the Mercy River girls and I were choosing songs for our latest album, we were all sold on one Primary song. "I Know My Heavenly Father Loves Me" just HAD to be on it. It's our favorite Primary song, and it's so beautiful on it's own-imagine it with an amazing arrangement! Whitney took the liberty to start the arrangement, (which was beautiful enough to bring Soni and I to tears), and in our heads we had this huge orchestral track behind it-I believe we used the words "flowy" several times while describing our idea to our producer. He submitted it to an arranger and about a week later we got it back. And we didn't like it. It was NOTHING like we expected; there was nothing "flowy" about it. We were brought to tears, but this time for a different reason. This was not what we pictured! This was not what we had planned for this song! Our producer reassured us that it was great, and regardless of our opinion, it was going on the album.

This last couple weeks we've given the album to our family and close friends to get their opinion. And guess what song falls in people's Top 5 list-you guessed it. "I Know My Heavenly Father Loves Me." One friend told me she sat and cried through the whole thing. It helped her during a rough moment, and she was so glad it was on the album. The sad thing is, my first response was, "Really?? Did you listen to it really close??" But then I thought, did I listen to it really close? Have I ever listened to it without my "Mercy River Goggles" on, and just let the message speak to me as it does for those hearing it for the first time? I must confess, I hadn't done that.

There's a life lesson in here. There have been times, and will continue to be times, in my life when things aren't going the way I planned. The end result of a project or challenge may be different than I expected. But I think different is OK. It's not bad, it's just...different. And maybe that different path I end on has something else in store for me. Maybe there are people in that new path that need me. Maybe there are lessons that are more important for me to learn. And when I find myself on that new path, I need to stop mourning what I've lost, and shift my focus-change my perception. How can I see the path for what it is, if I can't let go of my opinion? Just because things don't go my way, doesn't mean it's going the wrong way. At some point I need to not only hand my will over to the Lord, but LET IT GO. He can't do anything with my life if I won't let go.

I listened to that song, concentrating on changing my perspective. I listened to the song again and again, letting go of my regrets of "what might have been", and trying to see it as others might. And I must say, I love the song. It's different, but I think it's the way it should be.

XOXO

P.S. How many of you are singing "What Might Have Been" right now? Suckas!

P.P.S. I'm NOT trying to sell this CD-promise! It's just an analogy, peeps. :) Loves.

Something Left Behind

Dear(est) Holidays;

It was so fun to have you visit us for the month! Didn't we have lots o' good times? All those parties and craft nights, and all the baking! Oh, the baking. Ahem...yep, good times. But, um, remember those 4 extra lbs. I carried around for you during your stay? Ya, you left them. And to be frank, (and please don't be offended), I'm a little tired of carrying them. It just doesn't work with me. So would you kindly come back asap and take them away? Thanks a mil. Can't wait to see you next year!

With all the affection my heart can hold,

We Can Hear it Still

It's probably a bad thing to admit this, but this is the first year in awhile I've felt the TRUE spirit of Christmas the entire season. I owe it all to this Primary song. (Ward buddies, you've already heard my feelings on this, so sorry for the repeat.)

Here are the words:

Stars were gleaming, shepherds dreaming, and the night was dark and chill.

Angels story, rang with glory; shepherds heard it on the hill.

Oh that singing

Hear it ringing

Earth-ward winging

Christmas bringing

Hearken we can hear it still. (There's a fantastic minor chord in this line that makes this song over-the-top.)

That last line kills me. It's so true! It's the same message today as it was over 2000 years ago-it's never changed. We started learning this song right before Thanksgiving, and I've had it stuck in my head ever since.

Today I found myself getting teary-eyed over several songs. "Silent Night", "Angels We Have Heard on High", and the afore mentioned "Stars were Gleaming" all overwhelmed me with such gratitude for that sacred night.

What an incredible story. And even more, what an unbelievable gift we've been given. Music touches my heart like nothing else, and I'm so grateful we have so many beautiful songs testifying and telling us of Christ's birth.

So as I look at my countertop filled with neighbor gifts to be delivered, presents to still be wrapped, and cookies to be dipped in chocolate, I can't help but smile. Despite my 4-foot long list o' things to do tomorrow, I feel at peace. It's amazing how little those things matter when there's such a miracle to celebrate. We have a Savior! We can live with Him again. We have someone to guide us through this life. We are never alone. And like that message the angels gave so long ago-HE WILL NEVER CHANGE. And that makes me giddy-happy.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have a bowl of melting chocolate that needs some taste-testing...

Global Blah Blah Blah

Dear Al Gore;

Hey, congrats on all your awards 'n' stuff you've received for your research for Global Warming. Seriously, kudos. Oh but wait, have you been to Utah? Did you know it snowed for the last three days, and it's going to keep snowing off and on all week? Oh, and did you know that it hits in the LOW TEENS at night, making an early morning run impossible? No? I didn't think so.

No offense, but I find your research a bunch of crap.

Sincerely,

So Blessed...Honestly

There are lots of reasons I love being a woman. I love being a sister, a mom, a wife, a friend-I love the sense of empowerment I get when I read anything that mentions the influence we have on others in this life. But there's one thing that drives me crazy-

This bizarre need to outdo each other-even if it means lying.

Are you a "Seriously So Blessed" fan? I am-it's been awhile since I've checked her blog, but for those of you who don't know this gal, it's a blog written by "TAMN", and it follows her perfect life. The whole thing's a joke, and absolutely hilarious.

The other day I ran across another blog that was JUST LIKE TAMN'S. Oh, except it was real. ThE AuThOr EvEn WrOtE hEr SeNtEnCeS LiKe ThIs! (Don't worry-this gal doesn't even know my blog exists. So no, it's not you.) I had to keep checking the web address to make sure I didn't accidentally click on SSB. I was laughing the whole time, except it wasn't a joke. I think that's what I love so much about TAMN's blog. It's spot-on, and makes fun of the fact that so many women struggle with just being honest.

Why is that? Why can't we be a support to each other? Why do our conversations center around our children's accomplishments, our husband's perfection, our fantastic eating and exercise habits, and our material possessions? Why can't we share our failures, our sorrows, our fears, our struggles? Doesn't that build a connection as well? Why can't we just share without judgment, or the fear of being judged?

When we were having a hard time getting pregnant with Kallie, I remember feeling weird about sharing that with others, like our "perfect" life wasn't really that perfect. But then one day I thought, forget it. Who cares? When people asked I told. And I made a lot of good friends that way-friends going through the same thing. I still have friends come to me when they are struggling with it.

Now, I'm not suggesting we sit around and complain. I'll be honest-I feel very blessed. I do have an absolutely amazing husband. But here's a secret-sometimes he bugs. And sometimes I bug him. I have some cute kiddos, but here's a secret-Kallie has my personality and sometimes we butt heads. And sometimes I banish both kids to the basement so I can have some peace. And sometimes Kallie watches 3 hours of TV in one day, just so I can get something done. And sometimes I ignore Chase when he's yanking on my pant leg, whining to be lifted. Oh, and sometimes I give Chase a big sucker, just so he'll sit in his stroller and be happy. Sometimes I don't clean the bathroom that week. Sometimes I go days and days without making the bed. Sometimes I don't get to showering until 3:00 PM. Sometimes I go a week without exercising, and sometimes I go the whole day before realizing all I've had to eat was a 32 oz. Diet Coke and a piece of cake from the night before.

Sometimes I'm scared my kids won't get along when they're older. Sometimes I'm really, really scared about finances. Sometimes I'm worried I'm not doing enough for my, and the kids', spiritual growth. Sometimes I'm bored in Sharing Time at church. Sometimes I wonder why we bother bringing Chase to church. Sometimes I hate what having kids has done to my body-and then I hate that I care.

But despite all that I feel blessed. I just hope I don't portray a perfect life. It's a good life, but it's extremely chaotic, and we have our struggles, worries, and grumpy days. Besides, who wants to be friends with someone who's "perfect"? I personally find it nauseating. In fact, the older I get, the more I avoid these people. Not because I think they're bad, but because they tend to bring out this horrible creature in me. I start to care about things I shouldn't care about, and I start to make comparisons. And based on what? Lies. I can't be around that. I need people who will cry with me, laugh with me, share my anger, and share my triumphs. I need someone who understands what I'm going through, because they've been through it too. (And they're not afraid to admit it.)

More important, I hope I can be that person for others.

Letters to {Kallie}

My dearest, darling, daughter;

You are the joy in my life-the butter for my bread. I'm eternally grateful that you are part of my forever family.

However-

We have been battling your picky eating for the last year and a half. It's getting old. Really, really old. And we've tried everything. So-

I curse you and your future family. I curse you with one...no, TWO...picky eaters. This is no ordinary curse. Your children will not only refuse any and everything you put in front of them that doesn't resemble sugar, but they will sneak suckers and gum, defy every trick in the book, and drive you absolutely insane with worry about their health.

Now don't get grumpy about this! As I place this curse on you, I do so with all the love my heart can hold.

Good luck with that!

Love, Mom

Mirror, Mirror, On the Wall

I have this memory-when I was about 9 years old I had stayed home from school due to a sore throat. After a visit to the doctor we received a call later that afternoon, confirming my case was strep.

"Oh mom!" I moaned pathetically. I was quite dramatic.
Her answer: "You're fine!"

I don't know why I've always remembered that. It's not like it's a painful memory. I don't lie awake at night, wishing I could spill my guts on Oprah's couch, while the audience shakes their heads in sympathy. And yet it sticks out in my mind like it happened yesterday. To be honest, I don't remember a lot of sympathy growing up. I was raised that way-with a "Buck it up" attitude. I was never coddled. I'm the oldest; the guinea pig child if you will. All oldest children are, right? But I wonder if that plays into my shortcomings. Like, sometimes I think I could be more compassionate. I could argue that it's a choice-I could choose to be more compassionate. I will say I'm working on it. I'm improving. But am I where I'd like to be? Not even close. There were times I vowed I would show more sympathy for my kids, because maybe that was the missing link.

Today Kallie was, once again, spooked by some Halloween decoration. Today I had it. "Then go away from it!" I said. "You're fine!"

Gasp. You're fine? I say those words to her all the time, but for some reason today they had some insane grasp on my memory and all of a sudden I was 9 years old standing in front of my mom. And once again I realized; I'm teaching Kallie to "Buck it up". It scared me.

But then, I have a great mom. She's taught me a lot of things. Everyone loves her. She has a lot of spunk. She has a lot of passion. She's taught me the healing powers of chocolate. I know she loves our Savior. She's taught me what a prayer and a handful of faith can really do. And when it comes down to it, she's my best friend. And my "Press Forward" style of upbringing has come to my rescue several times. I found that I'm stronger than I thought I was, because that's the way I was raised. And (much to Jarum's chagrin) I'm an independent spitfire; sometimes it bites me in the you-know-where, but there are many times it has worked in my favor. I'm pretty sure I got that from my mom.

Mirror, mirror, on the wall.

I am my mother after all.

But maybe that's not such a bad thing.

Discussions with a Surveyor

There are two things about me that don't seem to really match -
1. I despise telemarketers. Especially if they call me on a Saturday or Sunday.
2. I like doing surveys - to an extent.

Saturday I got a call from a man who asked me, in very broken English, if I'd be willing to take a SHORT, QUICK survey on fast food places in my area. I'm in the process of trying to be more kind to telemarketers. After all, they're just trying to earn money to feed their families, right? So I told him I'd be happy to help. Here are tidbits of our conversation.

(3 minutes into the conversation)
Telemarketer: Have you ever heard of Carls' Jr.?
Me: Yes.
TM: Arby's?
Me: Yes
TM: Bulim....???
Me: What??
TM: BUH-LIMPIE.
Me: Blimpie? Oh, yes.

(13 minutes into the conversation)
TM: How would you rate Taco Bell, on a scale of 1 to 5?
Me: What am I rating?
TM: Taco Bell.
Me: No, I know, am I rating the food, the service, the store, the value?
TM: All of it.
Me: I don't know, maybe a 2?
TM: A 2??
Me: Dude, it's Taco Bell. What do you want me to say? How much longer is this going to take? I have two hungry little kids and I've been on the phone with you for 13 minutes now. You said this was short.
TM: It is! It is! We're almost done! Just a couple more questions!

(20 minutes into the conversation)
TM: How would you rate Taco Bell's interior?
Me: A 2. (Uh-oh, stately Brooke is coming out...)
TM: How would you rate Taco Bell's value?
Me: A 3. (If this guy knew what was good for him, he'd hang up!)
TM: How would you rate Taco Bell's service?
Me: (That's it. Enter stately Brooke.) I guess a 2. I already answered this. Listen, you told me 7 minutes ago you only had a couple questions left. You really need to stop telling people that it's a quick survey when it's not. This is ridiculous, my kids are both yelling, and I need to go.
TM: But we're almost done!
Me: How many questions left?
TM: Just 2 more restaurants. (aka at least 10-15)
Me: Absolutely not. I'm done with this conversation. {CLICK!}

Augh! There goes my kindness goal. Do you think I was justified? I'd say I'd try harder next time, but there won't BE a next time. If I could call the guy back and apologize I would...I think. Maybe not. XO

Crying Wolf

You know that story about the boy who cried wolf? I wonder how the villagers felt when they found that the boy was, finally, telling the truth. Were they angry at the boy? At themselves? Did they feel guilt? I'm assuming they felt a little bit of guilt. I would.

My picky eater Kallie told me today that she wasn't hungry, her tummy wasn't feeling good. Waaah! She says that every morning to get out of eating something she doesn't want to eat. But then her stomach magically heals itself in record time as soon as she spots some cookies in the freezer. And she amazingly has the energy to run around and wrestle with her brother. So I've learned to no longer believe her sad tales of sickness. And after she realizes I don't believe her she'll sit down and eat some breakfast.

Today was the same. She sat down for breakfast, and after drinking some orange juice and taking four bites of a waffle, she threw up. Oops! I guess this was the day she was telling the truth. So I'm sure those villagers felt guilty, because I'm feeling pretty guilty myself. Sorry Kallie!

Making My Grass Greener

I just finished a book yesterday that has me thinking. Unbeknownst to me, it was, in a way, a marriage improvement book. No big deal-I'm all about improving marriages. This last year Jarum and I have been working extra hard at making our marriage rock solid. Like everyone, we have a ways to go, but we've come really far, and things are going really well. So well, in fact, that I tend to get the whole "All is well in Zion" attitude. Which leads to more slacking and less working. Because let's face it-marriage is work.

Anyway, back to my book. There was a quote in there that I'd like to get printed on a large poster and hang it above my bed, so it's the last thing I see at night, and the first thing I see in the morning. (Don't act like none of you had a Backstreet poster up when you were younger. I'm totally admitting to that.) So here's the quote.

The grass isn't greener on the other side; the grass is greener where you water it.

Whoa. My favorite thing about it-it's from some guy named Mel from a sprinkler company! So profound. And it made me think-am I watering my marriage? Do I ever compare my marriage, or even my husband, to others? At times I do. And then I thought about the things I could improve on. I think I'm critical of Jarum, without really meaning to. So I asked him if he thought I criticized him too much. "Nope", he replied. "Really?" I asked. "What about that time you got Chase ready for church and I didn't like the outfit you put on him?" He thought for a minute. "That didn't bother me though." Ya, I thought. But it bothers me. Isn't it more important that he was helping me out on a crazy Sunday? Does my son HAVE to match? I should've handled that different. I have a lot to work on.

It's a pretty personal topic, but I share it in hopes that others feel the same. And maybe it's something that I can work on with others. Like dieting, ya know? It's easier with a friend. The book had a great idea of having "Marriage Celebration" clubs-like a book club, only you share ideas, tips, and accomplishments in your married life. Maybe I'll start one. Because I really have a great husband. Open invitation, girls, who's in?

A Day to Remember!

So fitting that my first post on this blog would be an accomplishment I will always treasure.

I conquered the cinnamon roll.

Yes, dear cinnamon roll, I've won. I've figured you out. Ya know, I never understood why you and I didn't get along. You were fine with so many others, I didn't know what I did wrong. And I tried to be nice. But after 6 years of trying to be your friend I finally got angry and I admit, I started a little backbiting. I said some negative things about you. I know that whole "you catch more flies with honey than vinegar" routine, but I didn't care. And I didn't give up. Oh, you didn't know I was tenacious?

But I did it! I made a GOOD cinnamon roll. And part of me wants to play the sore winner side. Thoughts of "EAT THAT SUCKA!" are definitely running through my head, (and I ALMOST stuck my tongue out, with my thumbs in my ears and my remaining fingers wiggling.) But I'm going to be the bigger person. So I will just say, I welcome you. Oh, and I apologize for the mean things I said. I look forward to years of brown sugar swirls, vanilla icing, and sticky fingers.

(What, you think I'd be selfish and not share? Recipe below)

The BEST Cinnamon Rolls

1 1/4 c. warm water
1 1 /2 c. sugar
2 1/2 Tbsp. yeast

Add together and let set for 10 minutes. Then add-

1 1/4 c. melted butter (Hey, I didn't say they were HEALTHY!)
1 1 /4 tsp. salt
4 eggs
2 1/2 c. mashed potatoes
9 c. flour (1 c. at a time)

Knead until smooth, then let rise until double. Divide dough into two equal portions and roll each out into a large rectangle. Spread with softened butter, brown sugar, and cinnamon. (I don't use measurements for these, so...) Roll them up, cut them into 1 1/2 in. pieces, and let them rise a 2nd time, until doubled. Bake at 400 degrees for 15-16 minutes.

Enjoy!
XOXO