Looking forward

Mister told me this morning that he is saving his green shirt to wear on "Green Bay Packer Day" in March. Maybe we watch a little too much football. (Can there be such a thing?!) Regardless, the kids are always looking forward to the next holiday!

And as a side note, we'll be seeing a lot more of J in his suit from now on, but we'll probably be seeing a lot less of him altogether as he was sustained as first counselor in the bishopric last Sunday.

When I told my dad about J's new calling, my dad asked me what I thought about it.

"I think it will be hard," I told him.

"That's okay," he said. "You've done hard things before and you can do hard things again. This is a great opportunity for service and sacrifice that will also bring great blessings to your family."

When he said that, I felt the truth of it--the truth of both the blessings and the difficulties to come, as well as the truth of my ability to meet those difficulties. I needed that and I thought I should write it down for future moments when I'll need to remind myself that I can indeed do hard things!

Like Father, Like Son, Like Daughter

J spent Father's Day afternoon finishing a paper for the graduate-level accounting class he's taking. (He needs only 3 more credits for his CPA.) Since Mister and Sweetie do everything they can to try to be like their dad, they broke out their Cyber Spy Notebook and the old laptop that won't even turn on and sat next to him, typing away. There's nothing I'd like better than for them to keep imitating their dad as they keep growing up.

You Know You're Married to a RABID BYU Football Fan When . . .

1. You say a yearly "thank-you" prayer that the blue afro wig and the brown corduroy pants from his "Super Fan" days did not make the pre-wedding packing cut.

2. Your children automatically lay out their BYU garb the night before a game.

3. He thinks about buying the Dell laptop instead of the HP laptop because you can get the Dell one in "BYU blue."

4. Your screen savers mysteriously all change to pictures of this year's team with the label "The Quest."

5. If there's not a new BYU game tonight, then that's no problem. We can watch one of the ones saved permanently on Tivo from last year--preferably the U of U vs. BYU game. Over and over and over.

6. While watching said U of U vs BYU game live in the local sports bar and grill, he jumps on the table to do a victory celebration at the last-minute, game-winning touchdown pass.

7. While you are on a day hike with the Young Women from your ward and he is in charge of the children (ages 4 and 2), he is shocked to discover he cannot get the day's BYU game on his Dish package. So, he hops on CougarBoard, finds a stranger in Tuscan who does get the game, and drives 3 hrs roundtrip, to crash the tailgating party of a fellow fan, no longer a stranger (who I'm sure did not bargain on the lovely addition of 2 very young fans to his football game).

8. Out of your 9 birthdays you've had since you've been married, he has spent 4 of them away at BYU games. (It's really okay. He just owes me BIG time, right, J?!)

Good thing I kinda like football and good thing I kinda like him, right?! Go Cougs!

"Mom, pull my finger"

I never set out to raise a Girly-Girl. I was never one myself, so why raise one. That said, I certainly didn't set out to raise a Grody Girl. (Sidenote: Is grody even a word outside of the late 80s/early 90s? And if it is, is that how you spell it?) Regardless, it appears that I indeed have a Grody Girl on my hands.

Tonight when I was helping Sweetie put all of the crayons back in the box, she turned to me, held out her finger with its 1/2-painted pink nail, and said, "Mom, pull my finger." I looked at her a minute, calculating. I know what's supposed to happen when I pull her little finger. But does she know what's supposed to happen when I pull her finger? And if she does HOW does she know that?! So, I tested the waters. I pulled her finger. And, yes, she certainly does know what's supposed to happen.

So, being the pillar of manners that I am, I coughed and ran out of the room before I could break out laughing at the shock of my little 3-year-old Sweetie moving wind on a wim. I returned promptly, of course, telling her that I had to leave because of the stink and because people do not like to be around other people who cannot control their bodily functions (or, in this case, those who can control their bodily functions all too well).

Upon further thought, I didn't even need to ask who taught her this new skill: J, now to be called, He Who Is Undermining My Manners Lessons (HWIUMML)

And lest you think this is not a big deal, I will only briefly mention the dried nose-pickings we found on the wall when putting her to bed last week. She apparently sees no problem in trying to fill the small indentation in the wall near her bed.

Well, Grody Girl, be gone! I am setting out to reform the little missy ASAP. Of course, I may first need to deal with HWIUMML himself. Wish me luck! And, just because I can't resist, here's my soon-to-be-reformed-Grody Girl. Today's thankful 3:
1. New scholastic books to read.
2. That clean-child smell when they're fresh out of the tub.
3. My girl, grody or not.