Surviving Summer - Week 1

Last week we learned about

MEMORIAL DAY

(follow links for instructions)

We made pinwheels


We ate American Sundaes (vanilla ice cream with blueberries and raspberries)


We had a parade with paper plate maracas, tin can drums, and toilet paper roll kazoos.

We learned about various wars and acted out some battles (Little Prince makes an excellent George Washington)

And we made artwork and put together a package for our fighting soldiers.


(Pssst. I know Memorial Day is over, and you could have used this information LAST week. But hey! It's all very repeatable for the 4th of July!)

Next week: Pioneers

Surviving Summer

My kids don't do "idle" well. When they have too much free time, my house (and my head) tend to explode.

So this summer, I'm taking evasive action.

Each week I came up with a theme. Each theme has a craft, an activity, an outing, a recipe and a service project. We're not super-rigid-schedule-y about it; if I get to them all, great. If not, whatever. But there will be no boredoms this summer.

I will post the previous week's activities every Monday.

Feel free to steal, improve upon, elaborate or ignore.

Grab a button if you want to join!

Cuz my mom told me to

This is what's been going on in That Girl-ville lately.

THING FIRST: We've been graduating.

From preschool:

And kindergarten:


I cried both times.

THING SECOND: We've been Newport Beach-ing.

I have a burn line around the book that I kept on my lap.

THING THIRD: We've been whale watching.

Although "dolphin watching" is the correct term, since the whales didn't want to play.

I was obviously a little geeked. I'm pretty sure dolphin watching was on my bucket list.

I can now die.

Everyone else had fun too. Giggling was a common theme of the morning. Also eating. Because boats make you hungry.




I learned that it was very hard to take a picture of a dolphin, even when they are jumping right next to the boat and there are hundreds of them. I am lame.

I think "photography class" is on my bucket list too. I guess I can't die yet.


I also learned that you can't take a good picture when the wind is blowing. That's probably part of that class.

THING FOURTH: We've been friend-visiting.

Which involved being stuck in LA Memorial Day traffic for hours, because some tanker had the gall to flip over and blow up the road. Seriously. The nerve.

(No one was hurt. Otherwise I wouldn't joke.)

(Okay, maybe I would.)

THING FINALLY: We've been summer-ing. School's out already and it be time to

P
L
A
Y

Which we've been doing. Lots.

WE LOVE SUMMER!
Don't you?

In which I once again don't follow the crowd

So triathlons seem to be the "in" thing lately. They're all the rage both in and out of the blogosphere. Even My Man is catching the Tri Bug. And I have three words for all of you.

Good for you.

Now five more.

I'm so not with you.

I don't razz or ridicule you - especially since you're all buffer than me. I respect you immensely. Just from a distance. A very far distance.

See, I have this problem with sweat-induced introvertedness. My body quite literally shuts down when asked to perform in front of others. And no, I've never been good at organized sports, why do you ask?

My Man is just the opposite. He is able to push himself more - farther, stronger, faster - when presented with an audience. It's motivating to him to work out in front of or alongside others. He does best when he's racing someone.

Me, not so much.

When I'm out running or biking and see someone heading my way, I cross the street rather than have to pass directly next to them. (Sometimes I criss-cross quite a bit.) When there are people on both sides of the street, I all but come to a complete stop. I can't tell you how far I've come just to be able to exercise outside instead of within the privacy of my own home. Hey. It's the little things.

***(I know, in a way, this is extremely self-centered of me. I freak out that people are staring at me, analyzing me, measuring exactly how much I'm panting - when I know deep down they probably don't even notice me. But hey. I never claimed I was rational.)

So yeah, the idea of a triathlon - swimming, biking, and running in front of not just one or two, but DOZENS, maybe HUNDREDS of people? Just thinking about it makes me clam up.

And I really think that's okay.

I'm totally at peace with my insecurities. It doesn't keep me from exercising. It doesn't harm me in any way. I'm a freak, and I'm okay with that.

A closet triathlon, now that I could do. Totally on my own. By myself. Just me and my thoughts and my iPod. Now that's motivational. Maybe in September?

Well then

This was in Little Prince's backpack yesterday.


Is it bad that it totally cracked me up?!

In which I prostrate myself before you

I almost said "prostate." Thank goodness for spell check.

Anywho, I'm convinced that alls y'alls are much smarter than me in all things smart. I take every word of advice to heart, and I'm the better for it (I hope.)

So I decided to exploit you further by asking you a semi-deep question.

How do you teach your children to be morally clean?

I'm looking for advice, here, people, so think hard and elaborate.

I want to know how you instill values in them - how you incorporate the scriptures in their lives - how you stand to send them out into the big bad world every day.

And this discussion is not limited to Mormons. Whether you worship Christ, Buddha, Zeus, or just a general sense of right or wrong - how do you do it? And if you don't have children in the home, how do your keep your own spirit of peace?

Since I never ask a question I myself won't answer, I'll give you mine.

• We read the scriptures and have family prayer every night - and we're trying to be better about having prayer in the morning.
  
• We pray over every meal.
  
• We have Family Home Evening every Monday.
  
• Recently we started reciting (one) Article of Faith at dinner every night until we memorize it - once we're done, we'll move on to the missionary scriptures. So far so good.
• We act out the scripture stories a lot. This isn't a set-schedule type thing. It's more spur-of-the-moment-let's-be-Jonah-and-the-whale gig.
  
• When things are getting reallysupercrazy in the house (which happens, oh, several times a day), I sing or play primary songs to tone it down a bit. Sometimes this is more for my benefit than theirs. ("I'm tryyyyyyyyyyying to beeeeeeeeee like JEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-SUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUS!"!)
• I always take the kids with me when I'm serving someone. They also write frequent thank-you notes of their own.
• I'm all about blatant brainwashing. Have you heard of the Brite tapes? Awesome CDs on different character values. We won't go in the car without them.
• We also love the Living Scriptures DVDs. They truly bring the scriptures to life.
  
• Just this week we began having a "reverence time." Every morning we read "kid" scriptures (we read the adult ones at night), and then have five minutes of quiet time. They get a chocolate chip at the end if they're reverent the whole time. (It's an attempt to better their reverence during sacrament meeting on Sunday. Because right now, it's non-existent. I'll let you know if it helps.)

My kids still fight and hit and whine and lie occasionally. So, in fact, they're still kids. But the way I figure it, all of our efforts take a half hour TOTAL all day. And the adversary is working 24/7. So I better get going.

So - what do you do?

I was just wondering

So last Friday we had a Family Date to the park. Barbecue chicken, chips, jello salad, grilled lemon asparagus, the works. We played, we ate, and we played some more.

Then a whole bunch of middle schoolers showed up.

Now I know you are probably all collectively rolling your eyes at the blight upon humanity that is middle schoolers, but I didn't. At first, anyway.

Then the obnoxiousness started.

A bunch of boys were flirting with a bunch of girls, and then the bunch of girls started bickering and the bunch of boys started being stupid. It ended when a bunch of boys did something rude to a bunch of girls and a dad was called and he showed up and cussed out the boys, who then went home.

My Man and I raised our eyebrows a lot, but mostly we just ate during all the drama.

On the way home, we passed another group of boys - high schoolers this time, by the looks them - just hanging out on a street corner. Hoodies and shorts, all. I couldn't help eyeing them suspiciously as we drove by. What were a gaggle of teenage boys doing on a street corner at 7:00 at night, I ask of you?!

(Most likely nothing.)

As I looked at each of those boys in the eye, I couldn't help thinking. Every one of you has a mother who thinks the world of you. And you probably deserve it.

So here's my question. When do boys stop being (at least in the eyes of the general population) precious little princes and start becoming disreputable hooligans? Every baby boy starts his life being coddled and cooed over, then works his way up to being ignored, and finally completes his youth by making everyone in the vicinity wary and suspicious. Especially when there's more than one.

I have four. And it hurts my heart to think anyone would ever think of them as anything less than perfect.










Because they are.

Indulgences

I don't diet.

My eating philosophy instead is: eat healthy. Revolutionary, I know.

However, this outlook is tougher to follow when it comes to sweets. Cuz DUH, I can't cut them out completely. Refer to the first sentence if you want to know why.

I have found three treats that are yummy enough to squelch The Urge, and big enough to keep me from eating ten serving sizes. I have graciously decided to share with you. But mostly Stepper, since she's off sugar and I'm trying to sabotage her.

Number Uno:
Dude, have you tried these things? So delicious. And huge. And only one point. (I'm not on Weight Watchers, but apparently only one point is a good thing.)

Thing second:

image here

Frozen blueberries doused in milk. Needs no sugar. It sort of solidifies into this slushie-type antioxidant deliciousness. I have this a good three times a week.

Last semicolon:

Fudge-y yumminess at 68 calories a pop. (Though I usually have two.)

Got the recipe here, but I've pasted the instructions for your convenience.

Whisk together:

• 3/4 cup all-purpose flour
• 3/4 cup whole-wheat pastry flour
• 3 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder
• 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/2 teaspoon salt

In a separate bowl, beat until stiff:

• 6 large egg whites

Slowly add to the egg whites:

• 1/2 cup granulated sugar
• 1 cup packed brown sugar - one Tablespoon at a time
• (note) these measurements are less than the original recipe, but still taste great. Bonus!
  

Then beat in:

• 1 tablespoon vanilla extract
• 3 ounces unsweetened chocolate, chopped and melted
  

Fold in the dry ingredients, then bake on a greased cookie sheet (or wax paper) 10-12 minutes at 350 degrees. When I make a batch, I freeze the majority of them and save them for when I get cravings.
*********************

More eating - less guilt.

I can handle this.

On sparkly butts and flowers

Arizona totally has a THANG goin' on. Everyone I see is:

A) blonde
2) skinny
and
T) wearing rhinestone jeans and flowered headbands.













I noticed this trend the very first week we moved here. I turned to My Man with wide eyes and whispered, "everyone's butts are sparkling. Don't look." I haven't worn rhinestones since ... okay, I've never worn rhinestones. And I vowed then and there to never do so. Not to mention the fact that I think I would just feel silly with an overlarge flower in my hair. I'm still getting used to wearing earrings. Plus then I would feel like I have to DO something to my hair besides my usual blow-dried straight, ponytailed, or barrette-ed dos.

Somehow I got this vindictive pleasure in being uncool. Because if you CHOOSE to not follow a trend, you're setting a trend of your very own. You are announcing to the world that you are actually cooler than the cool people, because, in fact, you do not care. It's like the anti-Twilight-clubbers who've never read the book. Or people who don't wear makeup. Or watch TV. Or eat healthy. I sense a sort of righteous pride in them for not stooping to something like mass public appeal.

So the other day I found solace with another non-reflective backside. I met a friend at the park and we conformed over our non-conformity. We postulated about whether the rhinestones wear down car seats, or give an extra boost to the laundry machine. We laughed about bees hovering over headbands or getting makeup on a petal.

We were mean.

I got home and shared the source of our giggles with My Man, expecting laughter as well. And I got

"I always thought those headbands were pretty."

I am now searching Etsy. I'm thinking this one?

I run like a duck

No really. It's true.

There's a lot of side to side waddling going on, and I take short, stubby strides. I have since childhood. (And we have the softball videos to prove it.) It's like my ankles are tied together with a rubber band or something. And I never really know what to do with my arms, so I usually end up kind of 'punching' the air with my right hand, while my left attempts to look cool and blend in with the background.

It ain't pretty.

But hey, running is free and relatively easy to do. It gets my heart rate up. No classes. No equipment. Just me and the road. I like it. The road doesn't judge my duckie skills.

So last week, I was about halfway through my morning waddle when - and I can't put it any other way - my stride changed.

I wasn't conscious about it. I didn't tell my feet to move differently. But suddenly I felt like I was flying.

(so not me. tight body - cute exercise clothes - green hills? def not me)

My feet kicked gloriously out in front. They scissored up in the back - my knee actually bent. My torso stayed still, and my arms swung in rhythm with my newfound beat. I couldn't help grinning.

My heart immediately began to pump faster - my lungs working harder, too. And yet despite the extra work, I found that my new pace was more comfortable. More natural.

I had lengthened my stride.

In the 1980s, the prophet of the LDS church, then Spencer W. Kimball, asked every member to 'lengthen their stride.' The dictionary tells us that lengthen means “to make longer … to grow … to extend,” and stride is defined as “to take a very long step … long measured steps … natural pace.”

I've pondered that a lot since my revolutionary run.

I think that I run like a duck in a lot of areas of life. I'm not sure why. Perhaps I'm holding myself back? Afraid of tiring quickly - or because I'm just used to it - or I don't know any other way to run. And yet pushing myself - making my body work harder - was infinitely more comfortable. And therefore more enjoyable.

Could it be that our spirits are made for the 'long stride'? We worry so much that we will overdo it - that we'll get burn out - that we'll set the bar too high. And yet, it truly is a "natural pace."

There's so many things that I want/should/could be doing in my life, that I can't/don't/won't do because I feel it will be "too much." And indeed, we are counseled to lengthen our stride - to take long measured steps - not lengthen our sprint.

And yet -

I really feel that I'll be more comfortable - more natural - to kick myself out a little further.

Bring it on.

In which I am overwhelmingly happy

My Man and I have now been married eight years.

(Dang.)

If you don't know already, I'm the biggest romantic sap of all time. But not on the blog. Somehow our relationship seems too ... sacred to share here.

Let's just say that he's the very best part of me. I marvel.

My marvelous sister-in-law stayed with the kids (six in total - under six) while we partied in Tempe. We began the night vowing to not follow our diet. We kept our vow.

And then I died when I ate this:

P.F. Chang's Mahi-Mahi with lemongrass sauce and cilantro rice. Ohmyheavens my tastebuds did the polka all night. (I don't know why it was the polka. I have no control over those darn tastebuds.)

This was in my fortune cookie - which one of you is inviting me to dinner?


After dinner we walked around Tempe Town lake and attempted to rent paddleboats before we admitted to ourselves that we had no idea where you rent paddleboats. We settled for hiking the "A" mountain. I might have huffed just a little.

We promised ourselves we WOULD NOT LEAVE til we took a picture we both liked.

We broke our promise.

Sigh. Another 24 pounds to go.


I wore my new necklace, and once again pondered why I never wear necklaces. This needs to change. My sister-in-law says that I'm an "Air." I'm not sure what it means, but I hope it involves pretty jewelery.

Then we sat up on the mountain, discussing our hopes and dreams and planning our lives together.


Life tastes good. Polka-ing tastebuds are only the beginning.

In which my baby gets a name

But I can't tell you, because my mom gets all freaked out about using real names and all.

Sorry.

So this past week we've been blessed to have the majority of My Man's family in town. I never got all the "rotten in-law" jokes. Because mine, in a word, ROCK.

They came. We played. We blessed the NBC. They left. I cried.

But not before we took some pictures.

I have my priorities in order.




.
I love my men. That is all.

In which I have a lot to say

and no time in which to say it.

I'll be back.

Promise.